Full Circle
by Puxinette
Summary: Aragorn’s indiscretion with a female healer just prior to the final battle at the Black Gates of Mordor, results in complications for all. Not an Aragorn romance. AU. Complete
1. Fussing and Fuming

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The night is cool, but not so cool that one would be chilled without a cape or shawl, and the darkness is not oppressive. There are millions of stars overhead, and with the moon, they light my path. The cool night air is in fact invigorating. _That's just what I need, something to invigorate me more!_ Even still, I stop and take a deep breath. As expected, it doesn't help.

The path I march along is leading me to my favorite place in the city. Yes, I am stomping. Trudging in a very unladylike manner, I am sure. That matters not at all to me. I am not some fancy lady who sways her hips suggestively as the tramps servicing the men of the city do. Nor do I prance about, as do the highborn ladies of the seventh circle. I am a woman of Rohan, and as such, I have no use for such pretentiousness.

I am a woman of Rohan, no doubt. However, I was raised by a father who insisted that I at least be civil, which made stomping away in anger unacceptable. So, therefore, I must be marching.

I am the Warden of the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. My staff seems to thrive on making my life here pointless and dreary. Why am I here, you ask? This is a question I have asked myself on so many occasions that I have lost count. The old adage, "be careful what you wish for, you just may get it," comes to mind.

I am here at the request of my sovereign in Rohan, Theodan King. An urgent message was received from the Steward of Gondor, Lord Denethor. In this message, he asked for assistance in replacing the now deceased Warden of the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. I was asked to come to their aid. So, being a dutiful servant to my liege, I packed my bags without question.

Who am I fooling? I had been wishing for just such an opportunity. I jumped at the chance to be named Warden of any House of Healing. I was doomed, or so I thought, to always be the assistant to the Chief of Staff, never the one in charge. I am a woman and that explains it all. That I should even be a healer as skilled as I am is a miracle in itself. A miracle I owe to the benevolence of Lord Keodwen, the Warden of the Houses of Healing in Edoras.

He had many reasons to refuse me when I begged for his assistance— his own reputation not the least of them. I insisted that I wanted to be a healer and nothing else. My gender was the most obvious stumbling block for him to ignore. For whatever reason, he chose to ignore it. He took me under his wing and taught me everything I know. I kept a low profile, hoping to ensure that I would cause him no embarrassment. I would never have pushed the issue had I thought to bring him harm in any way.

He tried very hard to dissuade me, calling upon me whenever there was a particularly gruesome injury to treat or perhaps a putrid boil to lance. Whenever there was a death he wanted to investigate, he insisted that I attend him, observing as he incised the dearly departed from stern to stem, as he always referred to it. All his tactics had been in vain. I still could not be discouraged from my dream of being a healer. He trained me thoroughly, seeming to overlook the fact that I was female.

My demeanor may have helped my cause somewhat—I tried hard to push my feminine side away. I was perhaps more successful in that than was good for me. On first meetings, people tend to think I am cold and unapproachable. If they took the time to know me better, they would find that the opposite is true.

When the Steward of Gondor's request was made to the King, Lord Keodwen tried to convince him, and his advisor Grima, that I was the one who should be sent to Gondor. Theodan had become increasingly frail over a short period of time, and he leant more and more heavily on Grima, to consider matters of state. So the matter of one female healer could not have been atop the list of the most important of the court's details.

Nevertheless, Lord Keodwen negotiated long and hard to convince King Theoden and his advisor, that it should be I, Maeren, daughter of Maedren of Rohan, who should be sent to fill the position. After all, I was highly qualified—an accomplished healer, fully trained. That I was female was beside the point. If Minas Tirith was in as great a need as they claimed, they would certainly accept me. The King sent the messenger back to Gondor with the tidings that he was sacrificing one of his best for Gondor's desperate hour. My gender he did not disclose.

So here I am in Gondor—Minas Tirith to be exact. I must get to my destination, before I commit murder of the most heinous type. I swear one of these days, I am going to murder someone, and when all done, when all the feathers and fur have settled, it will not be a pretty sight!

Why cannot people follow simple directions? I have tried patience; I have tried kindness and friendliness; I have tried anger and threats. Nothing seems to work with these people! All I get for my aggravation and frustration is more aggravation and frustration—and petty and cruel names they think I don't hear when they whisper them behind my back. Yes, names like Witch of the Wards and Surgeon of Sauron. "Step lively, ladies, the Hag of the Houses approaches!" If it weren't so ridiculous, I'd be offended.

I just had another incident with one of the aides. She was in tears by the time I was finished having my say. And all over how she was folding the bandages. I really do feel badly about my behavior with this aide. I completely overreacted to the situation. What the aide in question didn't know was that I had just had a heated discussion with Ioreth, the chief aide in the Houses, regarding this same topic. I need the bandaging to be rolled, not folded at all. It is much easier to handle that way. Ioreth disagreed—and argued. Ioreth is nothing if not long-winded. "It's how Lord So-And-So", _as I had come to think of him_, "wanted it done!" I had heard of how Lord So-And-So did things just one time too many. I demanded she follow my instructions to the letter, or there would be bloodshed—and it would be her blood that was shed. I'd gone to check on some of the sick and wounded who had been brought into the Houses earlier in the day, and when I returned to the supply room, there was the unfortunate aide, folding the bandaging. She was not rolling it. I had had enough and I stormed all over her.

Now I have need of some solace. I arrive at my secret place, which is surrounded by a wall of stone, and enter what is a small maze. It twists right and then left and finally opens out into a small garden. I come here, to my favorite spot in all of Minas Tirith, and let all the rubbish clogging my mind flow out of me. The tree and the grass beneath it seem to take in what my mind spews out into the air, all the hurt and anger and frustration that is my life. I found this secret little garden during my first week here in Minas Tirith. It seems so long ago, but only six months has passed since then.

Calling it a garden is really a misnomer, for it is just a scraggly tree, its type I do not even know, with a patch of grass beneath it. I do what I can to see that neither dies, but truthfully, there isn't much I can do for them. As often as I am able, I bring wash water used for cleaning of linens and I water them. Occasionally I loosen the hard earth around the roots of the tree with a rusty trowel I found against a wall outside of the Wards.

So here I am, sitting in the grass, silently pouring my heart out to the tree I have come to think of as my Wishing Tree. I am wishing that things were different. Wishing that the aides making up my staff would work with me and not against me. Wishing that I were home, doing my regular tasks of helping Lord Keodwen in the familiar Houses of Healing in Edoras. Wishing that my Dustin and Tristin, my husband and son, were not dead, but were here with me now. I am frustrated, alone, missing my family—and wondering if I was cut out for heading up the Houses of Healing at all. Wondering if I was even suited to the healing profession.

I know in my heart that I am a good healer. I can quickly find the problems of the sick and injured, and fix them swiftly and accurately, if they are fixable. The bedridden look up at me with thankful eyes, relieved that there is someone knowledgeable to care for them. I know I am good with my patients. They smile and laugh as they heal, bloom in front of my eyes, and quite frequently come back to visit with me and show me how well they are doing.

Those ignorant people who are supposed to help me, not hinder me, are the thorns in my side. I don't ask them to do anything I wouldn't be willing to do myself—things that I haven't done a thousand times. Yet, they fight me all the way and I don't understand why.

_Why do they fight me so?_ I have been in their shoes doing the dirty work of the bedpans and soiled linen; mopping the blood and vomit and filth from the floor; assisting the healer as he tries to make some sense of limbs or intestines that have been rearranged by some blade or lance; watching young men die of wounds they have received in some senseless battle. I have done exactly what I am asking them to do.

_How did I get to this point with them?_ They treat me as if I am some sort of tyrant, demanding they serve me at my every whim. Things started out right enough, I thought. But as I think back on it, they were reluctant from the outset. Stiff and rigid they were, not acknowledging any sort of kindliness on my part. I do admit, being Rohirric—and a woman Warden— I am apt to be very direct in my speech.

_Maybe I have hit on something here. Maybe politeness and civility are defined differently in Gondor than in the Riddermark._ No, that is an inane thought. But then, I need to remember I am dealing with people of Gondor now.

I really do not believe that my manner is the problem. Most Wardens are men used to having their word taken as law, and every direction given performed without question. I know from personal experience that they speak plainly. Emergency demands terseness. It can't be my manner that is upsetting these people.

I am a woman Warden of the Houses of Healing. That is virtually unheard of. Is it possible they are jealous on some level?

_I love this tree—_

It seems to comfort and inspire me when I need it most. It is almost as if it desires to grant me all the wishes I ask of it. Thanks to the listening leaves of this wonderful tree, I think I have discovered the problem I face. The aides distrust my abilities, because I am a woman. And quite possibly, they are jealous of my good fortune.

But what is the solution to these problems? How can I help the fact that I am a woman? I cannot very well change my gender. What could I say or do, that would allow them to accept me, breasts and all?

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I am startled out of my reverie by a frantic voice calling my name from some distance down the way. I hurriedly exit my cozy nook, not wishing anyone to discover the secret garden I have nurtured, and which has nurtured me. It is Ioreth calling me. I emerge out of the darkness and startle her with my abrupt appearance.

"Where did you come from, Miss? You scared the livin' daylights outta me!" She took a deep breath, placing her hand over her racing heart and continued without missing a beat. "Well, no matter 'bout that, we have a real emergency in the Wards! Some soldiers brought in a lad and he's not breathing right. He doesn't have any blockage in his air passage—I checked that first off." _And she knew that would be my first question to her—had she thought to check his air passage?_

"We had best hurry, then," I said, and we started running. We ran the rest of the way to the Houses, which was not far. I asked Ioreth if there were others wounded, but she answered in the negative. "He was only just now found, poor lad. He'd been hidden from view beneath other more unfortunates, Valar rest them," she answered.

I burst in on the scene with Ioreth trailing me like a hound on the chase of a fox, not really wanting to be in charge of the treeing, but wanting in on the hunt nonetheless. Or should I say, I stumbled in—over a pile of dirty linen in the middle of the walkway. This was something I have been harping on from day one.

"Let me in—spread out, all of you!" The crowd around the choking youth parted, and I leaned over the boy. I checked his air passage again myself, not missing the exasperated sigh of Ioreth as I did so. It was clear—no blockage. I ran my fingers along his throat, noting the bruising just above his voice box. That was the problem. He had been hit hard in the throat with something, and the swelling was blocking the passage of air he needed to sustain his life.

I knew what to do. I had just never done it on my own before. I had seen Lord Keodwen do it once, but the patient died despite his efforts. _Valar, do I try this, or not?_ He had absolutely no chance of survival if I did not attempt the procedure, and glancing at his other injuries—which were severe—a ghost of a chance if I did.

Closing my eyes to settle my fluttering heart, I asked for a scalpel. Ioreth looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses. "What exactly do you intend to do to this boy, Miss? I can't see where cuttin' him is goin' to do him any good."

I looked at her with slitted eyes, silently daring her to question my words again. I repeated my command for a scalpel. She complied then, reluctantly. Luckily, it had been put in a cleansing solution, so was clean. I could thank whoever had carried out that order at least. I asked for bandaging; I would need it to mop the blood that would inevitably seep from the incision I intended to make. I bathed his throat with some of the purifying mixture and bent, placing the scalpel against his skin. A hand reached out and stayed my arm.

"I can't let ya cut this lad, Miss," Ioreth said, alarmed. "It's never been done. What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?"

"Ioreth," I said with quiet malice, "remove your hand from me or I will use this scalpel on _you_!" I was shooting arrows at her with my gaze and she grudgingly released me. I promptly resumed my work, cutting into the soft tissue of the boy's throat. I mopped up the blood that escaped the wound and with probing fingers found the flap of tissue I need to slit. I made my cut and held the air passage open with the scalpel. I could immediately hear that the boy's ineffective gasping had eased. His breathing was rapid and shallow, but he was at least now getting air.

The aides surrounding me looked to one another in amazement, murmuring their wonder at this miracle they had just witnessed. I called out for some tubing. After what seemed like an eternity, someone handed me a foot long section of hose that had been procured from a dusty cabinet. It was somewhat hardened with age and I wondered if it would not be brittle. It was just going to have to do.

Handing off the scalpel to the nearest aide instructing her to keep the air passage open, I sawed at the tubing until it was a couple of inches long. Thankfully, it did not crumble apart. I hurriedly dipped it into the bowl of cleansing solution. I said a silent prayer that it was clean enough and inserted it, removing my scalpel at the same time.

I then resumed my assessment of his injuries. He had a bad wound in his right side, most likely made by a nasty Orc blade, a big bump on his left temple, and what was most assuredly a broken leg. Whatever he had tangled with had certainly done a good job on him.

I examined the gash in his side more closely, asking for more light. A sputtering lamp was proffered above my head, and I peered into the wound, checking to see if his kidney and liver were intact. No arteries or major vessels had been cut. I was very thankful for that. It seemed as if this was nothing more than a bad slash. Another silent prayer, one of thanksgiving this time, was uttered under my breath. I set about getting the aides to accrue the supplies I would need to suture the wound. This part was easy and I began to breathe normally again.

I glanced at the boy's face several times during my sewing, making sure he was getting the oxygen he needed. His face no longer held the deathly pallor it had when I had first seen him. He was still far too pale, however, from the large amount of blood he had lost. I began to mentally reassess his injuries. All I could do for the bump on the head was wait for him to regain consciousness. And the leg setting could be done as soon as the suturing was finished.

I tied the last knot, cut the thread and handed the stitching tools to the waiting hands of a nearby aide, thanking her as I did so. I stood upright, stretching the small of my back. I checked the tubing in the boy's throat, tossed the bloodied bandage aside, took up a new one and packed it around the tube. I smoothed the hair on his brow back, noting his young age. His face was that of a mere boy, not nearly old enough to be wielding any sort of weapon in any battle. _The times are desperate indeed, it seems._

I lifted his wrist, checking his pulse, and trailed my hands down to his grimy fingers. The hands of a boy! How my heart ached for him and all the others on the battlefield like him. Life was certainly unfair in the best of times, but right now it was downright reprehensible.

_May the Valar guard our bravest in the fight against the Dark Lord. Our bravest—but why should our bravest be our youngest as well?_

I shook my head at the inequity of it all and set about my task of setting the poor lad's broken leg. If he could recover from the blood loss and the lack of oxygen he had suffered, and if the head wound did not prove to be too severe, I figured he would be all right in time. If he would recover from being an innocent thrust into a fight he had no business being in at all, I really could not tell.

I spent the next few hours dividing my time between seeing to the other patients and sitting at the bedside of the young soldier. Much to my surprise, a group of three aides approached me as I was dosing one of the wounded with an herb to fight his fever. I looked up at them and smiled, asking if I could be of some assistance.

"No, Mistress Maeren, we need no help right now," the designated speaker for the group said. "We just wanted to tell you what fine work you did with the boy earlier. I have never seen a procedure of the like before—in fact I was scared to death of the outcome—but you kept your head on your shoulders and he is alive because of it." The others with her nodded their heads and murmured their agreement.

"I appreciate your kind words, ladies," I replied. "It was a rather harrowing experience for us all."

One of the others of the group then spoke. "Let us go, ladies, and let the healer continue that which she does so excellently." Turning back to me, she continued, "And, Mistress Maeren, if there is anything I may improve upon here in the Houses, please do not hesitate to inform me of it, and I will do my best to see it done—and done correctly." With that, they scattered, each going about assigned tasks, for once without unfriendly looks or rude comments.

All I could do was shake my head_. I am not sure how I accomplished it, but it seems I may be winning a few of them over_. I took a glance upward and rephrased my thoughts_. I had done nothing to alter their attitudes. The situation was thrust upon me by the Valar, and by the Valar, the aides' attitudes were changing_.

A few moments after the aides left, the childlike soldier stirred in his sleep. He was moving his head from side to side. I hurried over to him, knelt by his cot, and placed my hands on his face, hoping to soothe him from thrashing about and dislodging the tube. I felt the smoothness of his cheeks. _He was not even old enough to shave._

I wondered what dreams were haunting his youthful mind. I again agonized over the unfairness of it all. Children should be children for as long as they could be in this life. Not little soldiers sent to do men's work on a field of slaughter.

How I wished to be back at my Wishing Tree. There I could weep with no observers. I could weep for all who fought on the battlefields of Middle Earth—whether they were on the front lines facing Orcs—or the Valar knew what else—or in the Houses of Healing, wiping up the devastation wreaked on the brethren of our land.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	2. Simple Delirium and Sickness Unknown

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

A few hours past dawn, bedlam erupted in the wards. In the space of moments, what had been a relatively calm infirmary suddenly turned into a whirlwind of madness, wounded soldiers limping, stumbling and in some cases, practically crawling into every entrance of the Houses. Other soldiers, who were more or less uninjured, helped some of their fallen comrades into chairs, beds and even vacant spaces on the floor. The situation was daunting.

We all burst into action, my voice raised above all the pandemonium. I had a fleeting moment of self-doubt; there were just too many wounded and too few beds. I tossed the thought from my mind. I knew that where there is a will, there is a way, and I would find a way, even if it meant I would give my own bed to someone in need. I had no time for doubt. These men were depending on me to hold the melee in check, and at the same time heal those it was possible to heal. And I would do it or die trying.

With new determination, I waylaid a soldier who had just handed off his wounded friend to one of the aides. As he stood to catch his breath, I grabbed his arm, sorry I could not allow him even a moment's rest.

"Sir, would you be so kind," I shouted above the din, "as to gather enough of the men here who are uninjured and help me to clear out the storage rooms? We will be in need of the space, I fear."

"I am at your service, my lady," the soldier said. "Anything to be of help."

I showed him the rooms I needed vacated, and where to deposit the supplies that would be displaced. Unfortunately, there was no other place to put them but outside in the alleyway. I despaired that some of these much-needed supplies would be subject to theft and the elements. I prayed for pleasant weather and for the people of Minas Tirith to hold onto their morality at least until the siege was over.

We kept at it for hours. I knew not the exact time, but it was at least early evening when the flow of torn and broken bodies began to wane somewhat. But we continued on and on. We would continue—until we had tended every last one of them. We would do it. We must. They depended on us for assurance when they thought they were dying and likewise as they did die. We failed in that, I am afraid. There was simply no time. If we tarried with those who had no chance of survival, we could not help those who would live, if they received the proper treatment in time. It is a heartbreaking choice to harden your heart and walk away from someone who is conscious and dying, to see to someone who _will not_ die if you but tend to them immediately. I knew it not then, but dreams of these dying soldiers would haunt me for the rest of my life.

When the steady stream of wounded began to ebb somewhat, I was able to open my ears to pieces of conversations being held around me. I learned that there had been a vicious battle out on the Pelennor. Hosts of the Dark Lord's Orcs and , Uruk-Hai, as well as his forces of the Haradrim, the Easterlings, and the wild men of Dunland, descended upon the Pelennor. Like roaches swarming from cracks in the wall in the deep of night they came, slaughtering any and all who stood in their way, be they men, women, or children. Bits and pieces of information filtered into the wards, filling us with the horror that was unfolding upon the battlefield.

The wounded kept coming and coming. The legs of one young man I tended had been crushed beyond repair. There was no hope of saving them or him. He had lost so much blood he was past help. His legs were as meat having been ground for sausage, complete mush, and I unconsciously wondered aloud at what could have caused him such damage.

"It was Oliphaunts, Mistress," said one soldier on a nearby cot. It was then that I realized that I must have spoken out loud.

"Oliphaunts?" I gasped. "I thought them but legend!"

"Yes, indeed, Ma'am," he replied. "They are fierce and enormous—and deadly. Legend they may have been to us, but they are legend no more."

I continued my work, my back fairly breaking from the stress of lifting, shifting and pushing men who far outweighed me. Now that the worst of the storm was passing, I was becoming aware of my fatigue and pain, but there was still no time for that. I, as well as all those in the Houses of Healing, was in pain, and none of us could stop to rest. Certainly the wounded would feel pain tonight, as well as for days to come. No, there was no time for self-indulgence. There was more work to be done.

There were murmurs of the dark and terrifying Lord of the Nazgul, and how he had battered and broken through the great gates of Minas Tirith this morning. Whispers told of how he had struck down the King of Rohan. I was stunned. _King Theoden is dead?_ Before I had time to process that dread news, I became aware of another bit of information. Eowyn was responsible for the evil Witch King's demise. Theoden's niece, along with what was being called a 'Halfling,' had together smote the demon, leaving a gold crown and his empty black cloak as his only remains. Now, though, Eowyn and the Halfling were here, somewhere in the wards, very ill with a sickness unknown. All these whispers were passing into my ears, seeping into the cracks in my mind. I was becoming mesmerized by their cadence, lulled into a sleepless dream as I stood unsteadily on my feet, ceaselessly working.

"Mistress Maeren," Ioreth exclaimed breathlessly. "Thank Eru I found you! There are scores of soldiers whose wounds have been tended, but who are not recovering. There is naught that should be making them worse, but 'tis a fact that they are declining, not healing."

After I had overcome the shock of her sudden greeting, I said, "Show me." We both walked swiftly through the wards. Ioreth had used the good sense Eru had given her, and had gathered these ill men into a ward separate from the main one. They were divided from the rest by a series of blanket-draped ropes, making curtains shielding the merely wounded from those desperately ill from this unknown malady. I pushed aside a blanket, entering the makeshift shelter, and quickly took in the number of wounded there. The ward full teemed with them!

There were beds squashed together with only room enough for one of us to squeeze between them to tend to the occupants. I bent over a soldier, checking his hurts, which were not very severe, yet he was unconscious - I could not rouse him. I went to another and still another, and the same could be said of them as well.

Now this was a puzzle! A puzzle and a nightmare! How could we treat that which had no symptoms? That which seemed to be wasting the victim slowly toward death, without any hint as to what it might be?

"Ioreth, have you any notion as to where Lady Eowyn of Rohan has been taken?" I asked. I wondered at the truth of the rumor I had heard—that while her injury was minor, she was sorely sick. _Could these men be suffering the same illness as she?_

"Yes, Mistress," she told me. "The Lady was placed in one of the storerooms that have been cleared out down the hall, first door on the right. It seemed more private, as befitting a woman of her stature. She also apparently has this same illness. —And, oh, yes!" she exclaimed in afterthought. "You will not guess who else was brought in! The Steward's own son, Lord Faramir! He was wounded as he retreated from the Causeway Forts. And I must not forget the little fellow, Merry, who was at the Lady's side as she was engaged in battle with the Witch King! They are all down that hallway, in the supply rooms. And all are suffering the same dread sickness as these poor lads."

I swam through the sea that was Ioreth's explanation, but was now in a hurry. I thanked her and walked swiftly down the hallway. When I reached the first door on the right, I turned the knob and opened it. I frowned with confusion when I saw that not only the wounded Lady of Rohan was within the room, but also three other people: an old man, a younger, though certainly bedraggled man, who sat on the edge of Eowyn's bed, seeming to be praying for her, and—"Eomer!" I cried, barging past the old man. Eomer stood from where he had been kneeling beside Eowyn's bed, and when he realized who I was, he enfolded me into his arms in a fierce hug.

Eomer! Strength for me. Familiar to me. _Home to me_.

"Maeren, sweet Maeren, wherever have you been?" Eomer asked, his voice filled with worry. "I have been watching over Eowyn since I was informed that she yet lived, but I have been despairing in your absence."

I had been aware of Eomer since I became aware of things carnal. Every woman in Rohan that yet breathed knew of Eomer. Nephew to the King, he was. Strong, virile, handsome—the list of his attributes was endless. He captivated all those who beheld him, especially if they were female. I had not the chance for formal introduction to him until I was already married to my Dustin. I first met Eomer when I was working in the Houses of Healing in Edoras with Lord Keodwen. One afternoon, he was helped into the wards after he and a few of the riders had been beset by Orcs. He had taken a wound from an Orc blade high up in the back of his left thigh. I was much more embarrassed about tending to him than he was of me doing it, and he took great delight in my discomfiture. We traded verbal barbs, each trying to outdo the other, and before I knew it, he was bandaged and ready to limp back to the Golden Halls. Thereafter, every chance he got, he would come to visit us in the wards. He would bewail a severe injury, which he insisted would need tending and bandaging. Said injury would usually be so small as to be nonexistent. We grew to have great love for each other. Not romantic love, but love nonetheless. He was very special to me, and I to him, or so he claimed.

The man praying over Eowyn also stood and approached us. "You are the Warden of the Houses?" he asked quietly. When I nodded in affirmation, he went on, "I am in need of an herb called Athelas—also called Kingsfoil. Have you any here?"

I closed my eyes, mentally going through the inventory of the Wards. "No, we have none here—no, wait! I have some in my room. I shall go fetch it. Are you in need of anything else?"

"A pot of steaming water, please," he said.

I left to gather the things that the man—I knew not his name, I just realized—had asked of me, dragging Eomer by the hand behind me.

"I have much I need to speak to you of, Eomer, if you would not mind," I said. Stopping to look at him, I added, "Even if you do mind, please come with me." My eyes pleaded in a way he could not refuse.

Shaking his head and smiling, Eomer said, "You know I could never turn down such a face. Lead the way, Maeren." We continued on our campaign to my room, making our way through the packed and noisy wards and hallways of the Houses of Healing.

After what seemed a long swim through a sea of beds and bodies, we arrived at my quarters. I opened the door allowing us entrance and closed it behind us, leaning against it momentarily with fatigue. The moment of stillness was over too soon, and I began searching my cabinets for the elusive Athelas.

I asked Eomer if the tragic news of Theoden's death was in fact correct. "Eomer, how could the King be in battle?" I asked as I searched. I grabbed a chair away from the table in the center of my room, and climbed atop it, stretching to see into the cabinet above my head. "He could barely walk when last I was home."

"Alas, I fear the tidings you have heard are true," he said. "Gandalf cured the King of his frailty—frailty wrought by Grima—the Wormtongue!" He spat out the name of the King's advisor, as one would spit poison from one's mouth.

"Gandalf?" I said with bewilderment, "Who is Gandalf? And how could he cure someone of old age? The information that I have always relied upon relates that is an ailment for which there is no cure!"

Eomer gave a short laugh and replied, "Gandalf, the White Rider—the old man in the room with Eowyn—is a wizard."

I raised my eyebrows in amazement, but made no comment. Eomer continued, "When the King was given back his health by Gandalf, he would not entertain the notion of remaining behind. He rode with the Eoreds, and was killed by the Lord of the Nazgul. I knew not that Eowyn rode with us—the King knew it not, either. She dressed in soldier's garb, and armored herself so as not to be recognized. Then she secretly joined the ranks of the men. When she saw that our uncle had been slain by the Nazgul's blade, she did likewise to him and now she lies near death. I am sore afraid for her."

I stopped my search to turn and face him again. His expression was careworn and anxious. I noticed for the first time that he was covered in the Orcs' black blood and who knew what else. "Eomer, we must have faith. Whatever is wrong with your sister will be found out and she will be fine. We must believe that."

I again turned back to the cabinet, resuming my quest. "Aha," I said as I discovered the object of my search. I climbed down from my perch and opened the packet containing the leaves. I smelled of the herb, checking its freshness. It seemed all right. It was not fresh-picked, but it would be potent nonetheless. I wondered at the man's need of it. For all I knew it was an herb not much used these days. Of old, its use was for general malaise, when nothing else seemed to lift one's spirits. An air freshener, as it were. I closed the packet and put it into the pocket of my apron.

I turned to check the water level in my kettle and deemed it to be sufficient in which to steep the Athelas. I swung the arm holding the kettle in the hearth to heat and bent to stoke the fire. I finally noticed that Eomer was still standing. I motioned him to the other chair I possessed and I pulled the one I had been using back to the table, sitting down at last.

After breathing a tired sigh, I said, "Poor Theodred must be beside himself with grief over his father's death. I suppose he will be crowned King as soon as time allows."

Eomer placed his elbows on the table, steepling his arms, and cradling his chin on his threaded fingers. He looked at me with sadness. "Poor Theodred, indeed." At my questioning gaze, he continued, "My cousin fell to an enemy blade at the Fords of Isen." His forehead replaced his chin on his hands and his shoulders sagged. As children, Eomer and Eowyn had been raised by Theoden, in the wake of their parents' deaths. They had grown up with Theodred, and Eomer idolized him as a lad. He felt as though they were brothers. I knew his heart must be breaking. In the space of a very short time, he had lost two of his closest kin—and another was in peril. I reached across my small table and squeezed his arm. He looked up at me and then swiped his hands across his eyes as if trying to dash away the tiredness I could see in them.

It dawned on me suddenly. I was in the company of royalty. With King Theoden dead, as well as poor Theodred, that meant that Eomer was next in line for Rohan's crown.

Eomer sat up straight and said, "We should hurry back. The King will be needing this herb he asked for."

Again, I had a bewildered look upon my face. "Eomer—you've not taken leave of your senses, have you? Who do you mean? Is it the old man or the bedraggled one in Eowyn's room you are mistaken about?"

"I am as sane as are you," Eomer said with a sober look. "That bedraggled man is Aragorn, son of Arathorn—Isildur's heir. He is Dunadain, a Ranger of the North. He will be crowned King of Gondor as soon as we have dispatched Sauron and his armies - if that can be done."

"Crowned King?" I asked in awe.

"Aye, crowned King," he repeated.

I had recognized the name—Aragorn, son of Arathorn. _Isildur's heir_.

Almost a week ago, I had heard it from the mouth of a man brought in badly wounded, almost dead. I had just managed to get his name before he drifted into delirious rambling. He said his name was Castagard. From the gray garb he wore, and the Silver Star brooch adorning his breast, I could tell he was Dunedain—a ranger of the North. I may be Rohirric, but my father made sure I knew my history, including all about the Dunedain; the rangers who strove to keep the countryside safe from all things evil.

As I removed his clothing, bathed and bandaged him, the ranger named Castagard rambled on and on of someone named Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and how he was Isildur's heir; how he would be King of Gondor when all this bloodletting was finished. At the time, I had passed it off as the feverish uttering of a very sick and dying man. Now it seemed that it wasn't simple delirium.

The hiss of water overflowing into the fire startled me out of my shock and I grabbed a towel. I lifted the kettle from the hook from which it hung. I found a large bowl, in which Aragorn could steep the Athelas. Eomer, insisting on carrying the heavy kettle, headed back to the storeroom with me, to see if we could be of any more help to the King and the wizard.

In the space of one day, I'd been witness to one King's passing, a friend about to inherit a Kingship, and a bedraggled ranger - to be King. Would wonders never cease...

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	3. Soldiers and Sons

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I returned to the wards soon after delivering the Athelas to the man who would be King of Gondor. As much as I wished to remain and see to Eowyn's healing myself, I felt she was in capable hands. After all, everyone who practiced the healing arts in Middle Earth knew the old saw—'the hands of the King are hands of a healer.'

There were so many others who needed immediate care that I decided to leave the condition of those who were declining, such as Eowyn, to Aragorn. If he was successful with her healing, perhaps he would also be successful with the others. After explaining my plan those present in the room, I reluctantly left. I certainly wished to remain at Eowyn's side, but my responsibilities dictated that I relegate duties to those best qualified. I would say that the future King of Gondor was certainly qualified.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Things were starting to wind down in the wards, at least as far as the arrival of more wounded was concerned. I was taking a breather, leaning against one of the few walls that did not have a makeshift bed shoved up against it. All of a sudden there was another great commotion, as a young lad was carried into the wards by a bloody soldier. It sounded as if there would be another onslaught of wounded by the amount of noise they made in bringing in the youth, but he was the only one.

He was awake and alert and very afraid. A thatch of his brown hair was plastered to his forehead with dirt and sweat and blood. Black blood of an Orc. His blood, red and true as any soldier of Gondor, had soaked through the rags that bound his abdomen. He had practically been disemboweled, and the hastily tied bandage was the only thing remaining between his insides and his outsides.

The youth could not have been older than fifteen years. Just about the age my Tristin would be were he still gracing Middle Earth with his presence. The boy looked up at me, terrified of dying, asking me if he would live, and I lied outright to the sweet child. I stopped all the medical attention I'd been giving him, as it wasn't doing anyone any good, especially not him, and ran a cool, wet cloth across his brow, soothing him the only way I could at this point. I then sat down on his cot and lifted him into my arms. His fading eyes then looked up into mine, and he said, "Mother, Father will be proud of me, will he not?"

My heart caught in my throat. "Oh yes, my son," I answered. "He will indeed be proud." The lad then closed his eyes, a smile on his face.

The pain of losing my son but a few short years ago stabbed me, and tears fell onto the ashen face of the boy I cradled in my arms as he drew his last breath. If the aides who had been attending me noticed my tears as I tried in vain to comfort the young man, I knew not. And I cared not.

I gently lay the youth back down onto his deathbed and slowly walked away. The aides looked at me questioningly, but I hadn't the heart to say a word. I prayed that none of the remaining soldiers brought in tonight were wounded seriously. I could not remain in the Houses another second. The death of this young man, coupled with the emergency with the boy just last night, caused all thoughts except those of escape to abandon me.

I made my way to my garden. I do not remember how I ended up there, but there I was—sitting beneath the Wishing Tree, thinking of my Tristin. I wished for my tears to flow, but at the same time hoped they would not, for fear they would never stop. I wept unceasingly after my little family was killed. I wept until I had no tears left. It was then that my heart wept, and weeps still when I have moments such as these - when I am all alone and feel abandoned by them. Three years ago it was. Three of the shortest long years I would ever live.

My husband and son were killed in a fire. They had been working in one of the stables housing some of the best brood mares in the Riddermark. It was assumed that one of the stablemen, knowing full well the enormity of his treachery, was having a smoke while he worked at spreading hay, and had somehow dropped an ember into the dry straw. I can only hope that the fool paid for his gross lack of wit with his life in the same way as my loved ones. However, since the culprit was never found, I will never know. How I wished that he had been found. The penalty for smoking in the stables was death—the King took the horses' lives very seriously. And I was consumed with thoughts of vengeance.

Unbeknownst to me at the time the fire broke out, my little family had been on duty in that same stable, and quite naturally began evacuating the terrified beasts of which they were in charge. My men, as I called them to the delight of twelve-year-old Tristin, being true men of the Riddermark, were fierce lovers of all things equine. They fearlessly returned again and again, leading the struggling mares and their newborn foals to the fresh air and coolness outside the burning barn.

I had been in the Houses of Healing helping Lord Keodwen set a small girl's broken arm, when I heard all the commotion and saw the smoke. All the other aides and I had run at full speed toward the burning building. We knew that when the fire bells rang, all hands were expected and needed to fight the fire should one ever erupt anywhere near the stables. Many others in the vicinity at the time had already armed themselves with buckets, forming a human chain, passing container after container of water toward the fire. I placed myself at the front of the line that was passing the full pails toward the stable, wishing to be closer to the building. Positioned in such a place, I hoped to catch sight of the ones in charge of the animals. I hadn't known exactly where my men would be that day, so I wanted to set myself at ease that I would _not _see either of them with a mare's halter in hand.

But my heart dropped to my feet as I saw first Dustin and then Tristin leading the rearing and prancing mares from the smoke-belching stable. I screamed to them, bidding them to come to me. It was obvious to everyone that the stable would not be standing much longer. Dustin waved at me, worry etched on his face, and said something to Tristin—probably telling him to get into the water line.

But Tristin was his father's son, as well as his constant companion, and would not leave him to face the peril alone. I watched as Dustin angrily shoved Tristin away, causing him to fall into the dust at his feet. My husband then hurried back into the barn to resume the rescue of the horses. But Tristin would not be deterred. I watched in horror as he again followed his father into the flaming stable.

All who were gathered outside the inferno could hear the screams of the terrified horses still trapped inside, but all knew it was time to stop retrieving the poor beasts, regretfully leaving them to fiery deaths. My brave and foolish husband and son, and others just as dedicated to their charges, returned inside one time too many, until a deafening crash resounded, sending embers and debris outward into the crowd working feverishly to douse the flames. The horses' screams ceased, and their guides to safety had no chance to flee what had become their funeral pyre. Yet the water brigade continued on and on, and I mindlessly kept my place in line, handing pail after pail of water on ahead, with tears streaming down my soot-smudged face.

Just as they are doing now.

_Valar, please let the tears stop before I die of grief._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	4. Passion and Peace

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I am shocked at myself.

I am lying here in a man's arms after sharing lustful passion with him, and I cannot muster up the good sense to be ashamed of myself. I was wanton, wild and totally out of control. As was he, I might add. We are still here, in my private garden underneath the Wishing Tree. I lay naked in his strong arms as he sleeps.

Yes, I am shocked. Who would believe just a few short hours ago, when I had needed the solace of the garden, that I would find in this night any such diversion as this from life on Middle Earth? Certainly not I. The night did not start out that way at all—not at all.

Just past midnight, after the heartbreak I had endured in the wards, I retreated to my sanctuary, sitting on the patch of grass surrounding the tree. I was lost in thought, drowning in all the horror and destruction going on around me. The dead child-soldier's face and that of my Tristin floated interchangeably through my mind. I had just witnessed a child die in my arms—empty arms that should still be cradling my own half-grown son, who now rested in Eru's arms instead.

I was numb, yet in searing pain. My psyche was rhythmically running scenes of death and destruction past my mind's eye. The memories were so unbearable it felt as if they were eating my brain as I sat there.

As it turns out, the garden is not as private as I thought. I slowly became aware that someone had joined me here in my refuge. As if from thin air, he emerged from the shadows. I could barely see him in the deep darkness. Only the light of a distant lantern, one lighting the street, cast any light at all. I could not sense much of anything but blinding numbness, so I felt no fear. He almost stepped on me and that startled him much more than it startled me. I had been aware of his presence, while he had not known I was there.

I almost laughed at his alarm. His gasp was nearly comical! What wasn't as funny was his unsheathing of his sword and his fearsome growl of, "Who is here?" I had scrambled to my feet as his boot made contact with my thigh and had to take a step backward to dodge his brandished blade. Being threatened with a weapon, it did not take me long to emerge from the numbness in which my memories held me. _Thanks be I am quick on my feet._

"Tis I, Maeren of the Houses of Healing, my lord," I breathlessly announced as I ducked, hoping he would remember our meeting in Eowyn's room a few hours ago. I recognized who he was as soon as I heard him speak. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the soon to be King of Gondor, if Sauron be vanquished.

His breath escaped audibly as he relaxed, and he returned his sword to its scabbard. "You scared me out of a year's life," he said, relieved.

I could barely suppress a laugh and I was surprised at my sudden levity. Through my unexpected smile I said, "I am sorry, my lord. I don't usually encounter anyone in this place. You are the first visitor I have ever had here in my garden."

"My mistake," he said. "I was in the city long ago, and when I needed some peace or time alone, I would come here. I did not know that it has since acquired an owner. Pardon my intrusion. Good evening to you, my lady." He turned to leave and I do not know what made me reach out to him and bid him to wait. My fingers caught his sleeve, stopping him even as the cloth slipped from my hand.

"Tis no matter," I said. "Truthfully, I would not mind the company. My thoughts torment me this night."

With a sorrowful edge to his voice, he muttered, almost whispering, "As do mine."

My healer's heart went out to him, so in guilt, I suppose, I admitted, "I do not truly own this place. I know not its rightful owner. But I, too, come here to escape when life seems unbearable. I seem to come here much of late."

I tiredly slumped down onto the grass once more, crossing my legs beneath me and tucking my dress around my body. Again, not very ladylike, but quite frankly I did not care in the least. Aragorn seated himself in the same manner as I had, and very closely, too. I wondered at his familiarity when he explained himself, as if he could read my mind.

He spoke quietly, almost whispering. "I wish no one to find me, so if you would not mind, I will sit close to you so that we may converse; that is, if you wish to converse." He pulled a few blades of grass from beneath the tree and, dropping them, watched them waft to the ground. The bits of grass fluttered down, catching in the dim light of the street lantern as they descended.

"Do not be pulling my lawn out, sir, or I shall have to take my trowel to you," I quietly said. He chuckled at that. I was glad. The feelings of sadness, or worry, or both, I really could not tell, emanated from him oppressively.

"When I came here, I had no thought of company," he said. "But I find myself glad to not be alone after all."

I noticed the absence of his aura, so to speak, and decided he had gone to tidy up before he wandered out here. I could see in the dimness that not only had he bathed and changed his clothes, he had also availed himself somewhat of a razor, although he still kept a beard.

I must admit I was curious about him. Had what I learned in the wards really been accurate? Could there be a grain of truth in the feverish babble of a dying ranger, claiming this man to be Isildur's heir? Surely Eomer could not be mistaken about such an important person. I decided to find out.

"My lord," I started hesitantly, "did you know a man named Castagard, a ranger of the North?" I could tell even in the dimness of the night that he had closed his eyes, as if to resign himself to another painful casualty of this war. It took him a few moments to reply to my question.

"Aye, I did. A good man and a good ranger." He paused for a moment. "I take it that since you speak of him as if he were no longer here, that he chose your wards in which to die," he finally said sadly.

"I wish it were not so. He was brought in alone, no others around him dead or alive I was told. Given his condition, he had obviously been wounded days prior to coming to the wards and he was sorely ill. Very feverish he was and he talked of you just before he passed on. He was very much in the throes of delirium, so I gave little credence to what he was muttering. He spoke unceasingly of Aragorn, son of Arathorn—Isildur's heir. So after meeting you earlier tonight in Lady Eowyn's room, I had cause to believe what he said may be true. And according to any history I may have learned at my father's knee, if you are indeed Isildur's heir, that would put you in line for the throne of Gondor."

"It seems you know much more of me than I do of you, my lady," he said dryly.

That put an end to my uncertainty.

"Please, just call me Maeren; I get '_my ladied'_ to death and I am sorely sick of it, truth be known!" I noted that my voice sounded almost indignant. I paused a moment to collect myself and apologized. "I am sorry, my lord. Please excuse a tired old sawbones her sharp tongue."

"No need to apologize, Maeren." He was smiling now, I could tell. "Old sawbones, indeed. However, if you insist on such a lapse in my courtesy to you, I must insist on you calling me by my given name as well."

"Consider it done, Aragorn," I replied.

My curiosity again nagged at me. My curiosity had a bad habit of nagging me, and it often resulted in my embarrassment. But I wondered. Had Aragorn been successful in the healing of those in the wards with the mysterious sickness? "Aragorn," I started, "were you able to help Lady Eowyn? I had to leave the wards suddenly and had not the time to ask after her health."

"Yes, Maeren," he said, wearily. "I have been in the Houses seeing to her, and the others who had fallen with the same malady. They are suffering from the 'Black Breath', a condition wrought on those who come into contact with the Nazgul. I was able, by virtue of my station, to heal those that I could, until I could no longer do so without falling dead myself. The ones I had not the strength to heal, I left in the care of my foster brothers, the sons of Elrond. They, too, as well as their father, possess the gift of healing."

We sat in silence for a little while, just soaking in the quiet and solitude of the garden. The intermittent clatter of hooves on the stones of the street, and muffled voices heard occasionally as others met and passed each other, were the only sounds breaking the eerie quiet of the night. In spite of the strange stillness, it was most peaceful, sitting here on the grass with a quiet companion.

He finally broke the silence. "Tell me, Maeren, what troubles your thoughts tonight?"

It was a question, but sounded more like a request. For some reason still unknown to me, I began talking to him as if he were a lifelong friend.

"I was thinking of the past—and the present. I had a young soldier die in my arms not even an hour ago. I call him a soldier, but he was only a lad—no more than fifteen years, by my estimation."

Aragorn let out a long sigh and said, "I had hoped that it would not come to pass that our youngsters would have to fight the Nameless One. It is inconceivable how large his army has grown, and we tasted but a small bite of it today on the Pelennor. I fear that very soon I shall be forced to do that which haunts my thoughts tonight."

"And what may that be, Aragorn?" I asked.

"I am sorry, I wish not to speak of it. I should not be burdening you with my troubles at any rate," he answered.

As I look back on it now, it surprises me that I was so comfortable with Aragorn. There I sat with the heir to the throne, conversing with him as if he were one of my closest friends. Even knowing who he was, it felt good talking to someone other than those familiar to me. I found it a welcome distraction from my own pain, even if it was only temporary, listening to someone else's troubles instead of being obsessed with my own. It was refreshing, in a way, to be with someone of whom I knew very little and who knew little or nothing of me. I continued with my answer to his earlier question.

"I had a son who would have been about the same age as the young lad who died this night. I thought of my Tristin as I held this dying boy, lying to him and telling him that he would live. I knew full well that his life was ending even as I spoke. And all I could do was watch helplessly—and hold him. That was all I could do. But I could not even do that as I watched my Tristin die. It is a helpless feeling to stand by when you can do nothing for someone who needs you so much." My voice trailed off to almost a whisper. Tears were a breath away. I looked up at Aragorn and was stunned by what I saw.

Aragorn's face was profoundly sad and his eyes glistened with unshed tears, yet I knew what I had just told him was not the only cause of his pain. I could not help myself—the sight of him brought out my healing and nurturing spirit. I leaned forward and gathered him into my arms, pushing his head onto my shoulder, stroking his neck beneath his hair.

"I am sorry," he breathed as if embarrassed. "I have never burdened another with my emotions before. It is a foreign thing to me."

"I know not what troubles you, Aragorn. And I need not know. If I can help you even a small bit by holding you like this, please allow me to. I will not feel helpless twice this night," I whispered defiantly into his ear.

In response, he inched closer to me and held me to him tightly. We each held on to the other as if by doing so we could draw strength from one another. I could not tell if he truly wept, but he spoke haltingly, into my ear. "I lost someone on the Pelennor today who was dear to me. Halbarad—one of the rangers who fought beside me. He was as a brother to me and his loss wounds me."

Aragorn held me even tighter. He was trembling, probably from his quest of keeping tears at bay. I wept - I could not tell if it were with or without him - sharing his loss as well as my own—that of my little family. Even though years had passed, tonight I felt their passing as if it were only yesterday.

Aragorn took a deep breath and sat up, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of one arm. He then took my hands in his and bowed his head, our foreheads nearly touching. He continued in a quiet and solemn voice. "For years my life has been in shadow and secrecy and suddenly I am thrust into the leadership that is mine by birthright, but that which I have never wanted nor wished for. I am leading men—some of them years long friends; some of them as family, for whom I would give my own life—into a battle in which we have little hope of victory. Most likely leading them to their deaths. I deeply hate and fear what I must do; but I must do it. My whole life depends on it—and it is not the kingship of which I speak." Again, another long sigh, as if he held the weight of the world upon his shoulders, and in truth, he did. His voice trailed off and he finally added, "I am weary beyond speaking. So very weary."

I untangled my hands from his and pushed against his shoulders, guiding him back, laying him down in the grass beneath the tree. He resisted for a moment, not understanding what I intended. I said, "Trust me, Aragorn. Just rest here underneath the tree for a while. I will keep watch over you and allow no harm to come to you. I promise."

I began messaging his temples, willing his jaws to unlock so that at least his face might relax. I had done just this thing for my father and brothers so often it felt very natural to me. That, and the fact that I was a healer, and was used to having my hands on others allowed me to do this without a second thought. There was no awkwardness in my touching this man. I had no other wish than to ease his mind somewhat. I did not really know Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. But he was a fellow human being and he was in pain. It is my life's calling to ease pain and that was what I was trying to do.

He watched me and I gazed down upon his face. As I looked into his eyes shrouded in the darkness of the night, he said to me something I shall always remember: "Sweet Maeren, how is it I deserve you tonight?"

It took my breath away. Those were almost the same words my Dustin used to say to me often at night before we slept. And before I knew what I was doing, I leaned down to Aragorn and pressed my lips against his, reveling in the feel of a man so close I could feel his heart beating.

I abruptly sat up and whispered, mortified at my behavior, "Please forgive me, Aragorn. I know not what came over me. I have been widowed these past three years, and the words you spoke to me just now were often spoken to me by my dear husband. I was overcome by my need of him. Please forgive me," I repeated.

In answer, he lifted his hand and placed it in the nape of my neck, pulling me back down to him. He returned my kiss. Soft and gentle. Sweet and tender. "There is naught to forgive, Maeren. It has been long since I have allowed anyone close enough to give me comfort. It is comfort you give me and I truly welcome and thank you for the gift."

I could not help it—I kissed him again, and this time, we did not break apart. Our joined lips nourished both of us, feeding each of us the warmth and closeness of which we both had desperate need.

Our kisses turned hungry, our mouths opened to each other. We tasted our hurt and sadness and kissed both away, at least for a time. His hands had my dress unbuttoned before I was even aware of it. I began fumbling at his lacings and fastenings, not having much luck. Eventually I was successful, because suddenly it seemed, we were together, on the sweet grass under the wishing tree, moving as one, loving each other; driving away the inner demons that had been torturing us, that would torture us again on the morrow.

I wish I could say that was the end of it, but I must truly be shameful. I stopped counting after we had made love twice. My wounded and clouded conscience would not let me know just how sinful I was being. In my defense—if I have any defense—our first joining hardly counted, much to Aragorn's chagrin. He apologized and I advised him to hush and make love to me again. Which he did again—thoroughly. And again after that, until I lost count.

So here I am now, beneath the tree with my one night lover, willing my shock to disappear. I wish not to regret, but to relish this feeling of blissful peace and relief that are as eiderdown softly caressing me. As I lay here, I wish for Aragorn to be sleeping calmly, and feeling at least a small bit of the peace he has given me.

I lay there with my hand over his heart, wondering just who this man was. How did he feel about things? What was he like? I had not spent enough time conversing with him to uncover anything much about him. I giggled silently at my unintended jest. He was indeed uncovered—completely.

He stirred from his slumber then, with a jerk; frantic for a moment with uncertainty of where he was, his heart beating in his chest as if he were being chased by demons unknown. I lay my hand against his face and he relaxed once more, letting out a long breath.

"I must have been dreaming," he said. "I was wielding my sword and of a sudden it was knocked from my grasp. Thank Eru I find myself in the presence of a beautiful woman instead of an Orc."

I laughed. "Oh do not think to flatter me at this point, Aragorn." I could not keep the laughter from my voice as I spoke.

"And what is so funny?" he asked; "the fact that you are beautiful, or the fact that you are not an Orc?" He countered.

"I've been called many things since I have come here to Minas Tirith, but beautiful was never among the epithets, I am afraid. Perhaps Orc would be more near the mark," I replied.

He laughed quietly. "You have obviously been keeping the wrong company, Maeren."

He yawned deeply and sat up, stretching. "How long did I sleep? Has it been only hours or days?"

"Only hours, my love—only hours. I suspect it must be a bit before dawn," I replied.

I felt him stiffen. Why the sudden change? What did I say to disarm him so?

I repeated to myself what I had said to him aloud. _'Only hours, my love, only hours…'_

"Maeren," he said, interrupting my thoughts, "I must apologize to you for what I have done. I had no right to use you so, for that is what I did, I am afraid." He lowered his head, shamefully.

"Then I must ask your forgiveness as well, Aragorn. But I wish not to. You have given me such peace as I have not felt for so long it pains me to think of it. And I would not deny acceptance of that gift for anything," I replied with complete sincerity.

He started to stutter. "I—I—did not mean—I was not saying—"

I placed my fingers to his lips. "Well then, repeat after me—I, Aragorn, do not take you to be my love for life. I take you only as you have given yourself—as a friend who gave only as much as she received."

He kissed me tenderly once more and said, "I do."

We both smiled at that and rose, knowing it was well past time for us to be on our separate ways.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	5. Insults and Irksome Elves

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Do not imagine for a moment that even after the nightmare of yesterday, I would have the good fortune to escape from dear Ioreth's forked tongue today. A few hours past the dawn of another gray day—as it slowly shoved away the darkness of what had been a _most_ memorable night—Ioreth cornered me. I was about to step into the back rooms of the Houses, where I had an office and a room that served as my personal quarters. She began immediately giving me an earful concerning the boy whose life I had saved during the wee hours of the morning two days ago.

She started out just short of being insubordinate, but quickly raced past that line to being obnoxious. You would have thought that I had slit the boy's throat out of some sick enjoyment I might have gotten out of the process. For goodness sake, we had tended so many more wounded and dying, you would have thought I might have redeemed myself somewhat in her eyes. However, she was unmoved.

I nodded at first, tilting my head at her, showing I was listening and understanding her. But my calm demeanor changed into an angry frown as she continued to lash out at me. And still she ran on—and on. I finally reached my breaking point.

"Enough, Ioreth!" I shouted at her. "The lad lived, did he not?"

"Only by the grace of the Valar, he did," she retorted. "Don't think I won't take this up with Lord Jeneson at his earliest convenience."

Lord Jeneson was the director of all things concerning health in Minas Tirith. A stringy stick of a man, if he could indeed be considered a man, for he was decidedly effeminate for my tastes. Let us face it; I was more manly than he, the poor unfortunate soul. The teasing he most assuredly had endured as a lad must have been unbearable indeed.

"You do that, Ioreth. And my blessings go with you," I began. "And if by chance he wishes for me to step down from my position, I will gladly hand it all over to you. I am sure you would have this place up and running just as smoothly as Lord So-And-So did." _Oh dear, I truly did say that name aloud, did I not?_

I continued on, as there was nothing to be done about the irreverent name I had used for Minas Tirith's previous Warden. "As sure as I am standing here, had I not been the healer in the wards that night, the lad in there with a tube protruding from his throat, which I so insanely placed there, would be dead and gone, thanks to you." I stomped off.

I left the Houses in a hurry. Again I felt the urge to murder. I stepped out into the gloom that was trying to pass as midday, the trip to my room forgotten for the moment. I needed to walk. I needed to clear my head and calm down. I _really _needed a moment of peace and a breath of fresh air, but decided I would have to settle for the moment of peace, since the air was anything but fresh.

I suppose the Valar had decided to discipline me for being prone to stomping and feelings of murder, for ere I could even draw a deep breath, I spied two soldiers limping up the street. I watched their struggle, each holding onto the other, and not making much progress in their trek toward the Houses of Healing. I could not stand by idle while they labored so. I ran down the street to them and placed my arm around one blood and dirt caked waist. I grabbed his outstretched arm at the wrist and brought it down around my neck onto my shoulders.

We walked thusly for a few minutes, me watching my steps in the street. The road was pitted and muddy and the last thing these fellows needed was to follow me down as I slipped in a pothole.

I jumped, startled, when I looked up, and before me stood Aragorn, accompanied by an Elf and a Dwarf, who had evidently witnessed my plight and had come to assist me with the weary soldiers.

Gently pushing me aside, the Elf said, "Allow me, dear lady." The undertones of male supremacy could not be mistaken in his words. I frowned at him, which he seemed oblivious to, and stepped aside, allowing him access to the wounded soldier. I hazarded a glance at Aragorn and he was obviously trying not to laugh after witnessing my scowl at the Elf for insulting me unintentionally. He gave me a knowing wink and we made our way to the Houses of Healing as quickly as we could. As soon as we had the soldiers handed off to waiting aides, Aragorn turned to me and introduced the Elf and Dwarf in turn. "Maeren, these are my friends, Legolas of Mirkwood and Gimli, Son of Gloin."

I dipped my head to both Elf and Dwarf, and thanked them all for helping me with the wounded men. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen. I am Maeren, daughter of Maedren of Rohan. I do appreciate your help, kind sirs. I hope to meet you again and perhaps we may have more time to properly converse. I am afraid for now I must take my leave of you and get to work."

The Elf smiled and said, "Well, we would not wish to have you chastised by the Warden for keeping you, so we will also bid you farewell."

I somehow got the idea that this Elf was used to fawning females of every imagined race. He gave the term _fair_ a new meaning. To say he was handsome really didn't define him well enough. I had fleeting thoughts of Lord Jeneson, but I had to admit that even this Elf was manlier than he.

I narrowed my eyes, still smiling, though it was somewhat of a smug smile. I said with a voice laced with acid and sweetened with honey, "Well, I promise not to be very hard on myself, Master Elf." Wrinkling my nose, I added, "Oh, and since I can see you are in dire need, the public baths are just down the way, on the right, just past the Inn. You cannot miss them."

His knit his brows together and mumbled something to Aragorn, wondering about what I had just said. And with that, I turned quickly and headed into the wards. I suddenly wondered at my boldness—I had never even seen an Elf, let alone insulted one. But truthfully, he had insulted me first, intended or not. I suppose I was lucky he was a good sport. Or maybe he was just speechless and was saving my punishment for another time. _No, just oblivious, in his quest for male supremacy._

I continued on and just before passing the threshold into the wards, I stole a glance backward. I could swear I heard the Dwarf—Gimli, wasn't it—laugh, and smack the Elf on the back saying mockingly, "Oh Master Elf, it seems not all females find you as irresistible as you always tell me they do."

The men we had helped in from the street proved to be more exhausted than injured, and were quickly cleaned up and bandaged and tucked into clean cots. After I was sure all was under control in the wards, I walked wearily into the back rooms of the Houses of Healing where I made my home such as it was. I heated a pot of water for a quick tidy up. Maybe I could grab a bite to eat and a short nap as well.

Looking into the mirror hanging above the crude washstand I stood before, I loosened my hair from the knot where it was fastened at the nape of my neck. My hairpins were bent and rusting. I made a mental note to find the time to get some new ones. I ran my fingers through my hair, closing my eyes as I shook it out. I scratched my scalp, trying to message the cares of the past few days away. I dared a glance into the mirror, dreading what I might see smudged or smeared across my face. As I suspected, it was a sight. Blood adorned my left temple, where I must have absently brushed the hair out of my eyes whilst tending some wound. I grimaced as I looked at the smudges of dirt that graced my chin. I shook my head, wondering just how I had managed to get so filthy in a ward that was supposed to be at least clean, if not immaculate. I laughed at myself as I took in my grubby appearance. It seems I had been a little too close to crossing the line this morning in insulting the Elf concerning his state of filthiness—which in reality was not near as dirty at I had made out. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. As it turns out, I had no room to talk.

As soon as the water on the stove was warm enough, I poured a good bit of it into my washbowl. I drenched a washcloth, wrung it out, and began dabbing at the smudges of dirt and blood that were on my face. I took off my apron and dress, my tired fingers stiff for whatever reason, undoing the buttons slowly. As soon as I was naked, I stretched like a cat just rousing from a doze in a cozy basket. How I wished I were just rising from a nap. I was beyond tired.

I began applying the washcloth, smeared with soap, over my body. It felt so good I again closed my eyes. I came to with a jerk, suddenly realizing that I was about to drop the cloth and go to sleep on my feet.

I shook my head, trying to shove the sleepiness away, and refilled my washbowl with clean water for a rinse. After patting myself dry with one of my thin towels, I found clean undergarments and proceeded to put them on. Just before donning them, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. _What was smudged on my shoulder?_ On closer inspection, I realized that it was no smudge. It was a patch of red, chafed skin.

A smile crossed my lips. I remembered how I came to be so marked. Aragorn's beard. I remembered how he had kissed my neck and shoulders and rested his face in the crook of my neck during our night together. The repeated meeting of skin and beard was what caused this rosy reminder.

I surprised myself by blushing. You would think I was some untried virgin, the way I was embarrassed by this small thing. It is funny. No matter how old a woman may get, she still thinks the same of herself, as she grows older. It seems as if a part inside of you doesn't age, it just gets wiser, hopefully. Here I was, a woman nearly thirty. I had been married for eleven years before my husband's death, and had even borne a son. Yet I could still find myself blushing like the young, sheltered girl I no longer was. Yes, it was funny.

I couldn't remember the last time I had really looked at myself. I looked my body up and down. And side-to-side—tilting my head first right and then left. I grimaced at the sight. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, for there was nothing to do for it.

I have always been considered what is called plain—just your ordinary Rohirric woman. My hair was somewhere between blond and red and not notable. My eyes were probably my best feature—green, large and long lashed. My breasts had never been large, but they were no longer the pert young things they had been before I had suckled Tristin. I was pretty long waisted and my ribs were apt to poke out. Oh well, I might as well dress. I could look at the sack of bones that was my body until Mordor ran cold, and wouldn't be able to change that which the Valar had granted me.

After eating a small bit—and, I confess—daydreaming some about how I had spent the previous night, I rose from my little table in the center of my room. I decided to go check on the patients in the ward. There were still wounded soldiers practically stacked atop one another. The chaos was down, even though the sounds of those suffering were, if anything, even more pronounced. Work, it seems, is never done.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I went from bed to bed, checking bandages, and giving doses of fever and pain relieving herbs. After three hours I decided to take a few minutes rest and visit our heroes ensconced in the storerooms in the far end of the wards.

As I walked down the hall containing the rooms I sought, I heard what seemed to be muffled weeping from a door I was intending to walk past. I was wishing to see Eowyn before seeing the other two patients. The sound was coming from the room of Lord Faramir. I hesitated. I did not personally know him, but I could not turn my back upon the sorrowful sounds of his mourning. He was most assuredly in mourning. His father had killed himself, and had nearly taken Faramir with him to the Halls of Mandos.

Faramir's father, Lord Denethor—the Steward of Gondor—had apparently gone somewhat mad with grief. He had not only lost his firstborn son Boromir, but was also anguished with what, in his mind, was sure to be the end of Middle Earth as he knew it.

I had heard the story that was spreading throughout the city, of how Denethor had despaired over losing everything of importance to him. He was determined he would not leave his only remaining son to suffer under the inevitable rule of the Dark Lord. So, he had taken Faramir, who was unconscious and very ill, to the Hallows, where all the Kings and Stewards of Gondor were laid to rest. He entered the House of Stewards, and laid first Faramir, and then himself upon large tables of stone. He had his servants prepare a pyre around the tables, intending for them to set fire to the wood soaked in oil.

Somehow, for the story given to me was unclear at this point, the wizard Galdalf had been summoned. While he could not save Denethor from his intended end, Gandalf had managed to save Faramir. It now seemed apparent that Faramir had learned of his father's suicide, as well as his own narrow brush with death at his father's hands.

I paused one more moment, my hand on the doorknob, before I knocked quietly and entered. It was clear that Faramir had been weeping. He hastily tried to hide that fact, turning over on his side, showing his back to me. I closed the door and approached the bed.

"Please leave me," Faramir said in a choked voice, "I want no company."

My heart clenched at his sadness. "I have come to check on your hurts, my lord," I said. "I am Maeren, the Warden of the Houses. We have never met. You are Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, I believe?"

My question went unanswered. He said nothing, nor did he turn to face me. The light in the room was dim. Only one small candle on an instrument table at the far side of the room cast a flickering shadow.

"My lord, please turn toward me, so that I may tend to your shoulder," I said trying to sound as proficient as I could. Perhaps while I was tending to his physical needs, he would allow me to be a shoulder on which to lay some of his many sorrows. I didn't hold out much hope for accomplishing this, because men were notorious for holding their sorrows inside. I didn't see why Lord Faramir would be any different.

He heeded my request, rolling over onto his back. He had obviously had a chance to wipe his face. The only trace of tears was in the redness of his eyes. I sat on the edge of the bed next to him. He remained stonily silent and looked everywhere but at me, as I untied the loose nightshirt he wore. He actually looked quite fearsome.

Removing the bandage from his shoulder, I checked the wound, which was well on its way toward healing. I replaced the bandage, although truthfully, the wound was closed nicely and he had no need of it anymore. I was stalling for time, trying to gather my thoughts as to what I would say to him—and how best to say it. I decided the direct approach would be better than skirting the issue. I prayed that the story I was taking as fact was indeed true. I would hate to add insult to injury with falseness.

I finished retying his nightshirt and lay my hands on his shoulder. It seemed almost cold to the touch. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine. His fearsome expression softened a little and his tears began flowing again, down the sides of his face into his ears. I took the sheet that was covering him and stretched it up to wipe the dampness from the side of his face closest to me.

He made no sound with his weeping—the tears just fell from weary eyes. He finally said, "My father tried to kill me."

I could tell he was ashamed of what he perceived as his weakness. He was weeping—and in front of a woman. Not only that, he seemed to be about to bare his soul to me. He was either extremely overwrought or an extremely sensitive man. His stern countenance, aside from the tears, had me opting for the former.

He lay there silent and stony as I organized my thoughts. "I know he did," I said quietly. "But the way I understand it, he thought he was doing it out of love. One cannot fault a parent for wanting to protect his child, even if he is misguided by grief."

"My father did not love me!" Faramir exclaimed quietly. "It was by his order that I went to Osgiliath, even though both he and I knew it to be futile. He had every reason to believe that he was sending me to my death. Yet he sent me anyway."

"As I heard it—and my source is very reliable," _I lied, _"He showed great remorse over that decision. When you returned wounded, he would not allow those carrying you to bring you here. He wanted you close to him, in his house, where he did not leave your side for even a moment."

I lifted the pitcher on the bedside table and poured him a glass of water. As I lifted his head to help him drink, I said, "I do not know you and I did not know him, so I will not begin to presume that I know of the relationship between you. I really have no business telling you of his motives, but from the outside looking in, I see a desperately misguided man making a futile attempt at atonement for his sin against his son. Take that or leave it. It is entirely your decision."

"I know not how I will take it. Presently I cannot get past the fact that he is dead. Dead without ever speaking of his care for me, did he have any." His voice was tremulous as he continued, "Even if he sought atonement, it was already too late." Faramir closed his eyes but no tears fell from them.

"I suppose it will be in how you choose to look at it," I said. "You can be bitter and eat your heart out over his neglect—and perhaps even his spite of you. Or you can grieve a poor old man's death. An old man who died without hearing his son speak of his love for him, which, as a parent, I can say without doubt would be a devastating thing."

Faramir opened his eyes and looked at me once again. "Thank you, my lady. I had not thought about it in those terms, but you are right. It is all in one's attitude."

I could see his soldier's face replace that of an injured son. I could not tell if he was comforted by what I had said or just closing his emotional door to me.

Since our words seemed to have taken a turn from the morose, I decided to engage in a little light conversation. Perhaps I could at least distract him from the dark thoughts that were plaguing his mind.

"Yes, attitude can get us far, how well I know," I replied. "Mine is apt to get me into trouble when I least expect it."

I rose and began straightening his covers and generally tidying up the room. I turned to look at him and was rewarded with maybe a hint of a smile. I was glad. His pain—both mentally and physically—must have been overwhelming. First he lost his older brother, then this situation resulting in his father's death. It was a wonder he could smile even slightly.

"You have had visitors, my lord," I said. "Some rough looking men have been asking after your health. The say they are Rangers of Ithilien."

"That would be my men. Will they be allowed in—or must I go _out _to see them?" he asked with a sideways gaze.

"I suppose that would depend on whether you will let them in. I have no objections if you do not." I smiled slightly. "And coercion will not get you anywhere with me, my Lord Faramir."

"Coercion?" he asked. "I do not coerce. I either do or I do not."

I knit my brows together. "Is that so, my lord? Then I will tell you that I have been ordered by Aragorn to not allow you out of the Houses until I see fit—and I shall not see fit until I am sure you have regained your strength sufficiently and not before. Is that clear?"

He smiled in defeat and said, "Very clear, my lady. It is a bitter pill to swallow, but I shall do my best to take my medicine—and defeat—like a man." He smiled at his cleverness with words.

"Oh, my lord," I said, wrinkling my nose. "You must do something about your horrendous puns—telling a healer,_ in the Houses of Healing_, about having a bitter pill to swallow! Surely you can do better than that!"

I actually got a chuckle out of him then. He smiled and said, "My name is Faramir. I would appreciate your using it without a title please."

I smiled widely and said, "Only if you will speak my name as well, instead of 'my lady.' My name is Maeren."

"Then that is who you shall be," he said.

I smiled at him. He seemed in better spirits than he had been before I came in. I bid him goodnight and left, closing the door behind me. I stood just outside his door, thinking about Faramir and our conversation. On first meeting he seemed such a formidable man. But I did not find him to be so fearsome by the time I left. I also knew I had been wrong about him before. Yes, he was extremely overwrought, but I suspected that inside this man beat a very sensitive heart.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	6. Pranks and Prayers

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I will never know what possessed me to think such a thing, let alone do it. Such an awful thing. But I did do it.

As I took my walk this morning, something I do almost every morning rain or shine, I happened across a drunken soldier, passed out against a wall. His legs were blocking my way. I caught myself indignantly thinking of how he should be ashamed of himself. Given how I had spent one of my evenings of late, I could hardly cast blame on anyone. But I refused to listen to the woman's heart in me that would give the man a bit of slack. After all, times were hard, and every day could be his last. No, the mischievous heart in me won the argument. The soldier must pay for his sin. If I did not continue thinking in this way, I would not be allowed my fun.

As the thoughts continued through my twisted mind, I was reminded of a time when I had sought to teach my oldest brother, Haedren, a thing or two about passing out from too much ale while I was around to witness it. I snickered to myself as I remembered what I had done.

Since Haedren was unconscious as only a drunken man can be, he never even twitched an eyelash as I tied his ankle to the table leg in the kitchen. I sat there in a chair, methodically banging a pot upon the table, probably in time with the throbbing in his head. I hoped to speed his awakening a bit. I was successful.

Slowly, painfully, I could see, he opened first one eye, then the other. He screwed up his face as he stretched and finally noticed I was sitting there. He growled at me, something about drawing a picture, it would last longer than the stare I was giving him. I could see him turning greener by degrees as he came fully awake. So I wasn't surprised when he sat up quickly and stood and began to run for the door. The table, being crafted of heavy oak, screeched a few inches across the stones of the floor, but did not give much at all. The look Haedren had on his face when he hit the floor—the picture is still priceless to me today. I was lucky my father had not made me clean up the mess Haedren had so ungraciously tossed from his stomach before he could make it outside. But he, too, had a lesson to teach Haedren that morning. If you commit the sin, you mop up after yourself as well. It was something he had great fondness of repeating—one of those life lessons parents are so glad to impart to their offspring.

So, there I stood, my arms crossed in front of me, with what I imagine must have been a wicked smile on my face. I had tied the soldier's bootlaces together. Such a juvenile act, I was almost ashamed of myself. Almost. I was waiting for the morning muster horns, the horns that sounded every day calling the soldiers to report for the day's duties. They sounded a few moments later, as I knew they would. As expected, the poor hungover soul woke bleary-eyed. But being a true soldier of Gondor, he gathered himself together, swiped a hand over his stubbled chin and got up. He took one step and fell flat.

I hurried on my way, covering my mouth to try and stifle the giggles I could not have controlled had my life depended on it.

Did I mention before how wicked I was?

If I didn't, I should have.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I continued my walk, smiling to myself, when I heard a "tsk, tsk," from my left. There, with a sly grin on his face was Gimli, the Dwarf I had met the day before yesterday. He had been leaning against a lamppost, apparently observing my childish prank.

"Mistress Maeren—I am surprised at you!" he said in mock disdain. "Preying upon a hapless soldier ere he goes off to the Black Gates. For shame!"

"You have caught me, Master Gimli," I confessed. "I could not help myself. I am so tired of death and war and destruction, that my mind has apparently been warped by it all. I beg your understanding and silence. If word got out that the Warden of the Houses of Healing was playing pranks, I shudder to think what would happen."

He fell into step beside me. "Have no fear, Mistress Maeren, your secret is safe with me."

As we continued to walk, Gimli asked, "Are we going anywhere in particular?"

"No, we are just walking, Master Gimli. We are going on my morning constitutional."

"I must say, you seem to be in a right chipper mood this morning, for someone bewailing the evil of late," he said.

"I suppose I am, in a way," I replied. "Things have not seemed so bleak to me for the past few days. I met with a friend a few nights past, and was helped to overcome some of the pain and sorrow that have been weighing me down." I smiled as I remembered my night of passion with Aragorn. Yes, he had certainly helped to ease my pain and sorrow.

The path was becoming more congested as the morning grew older. Other people were parting us, now and then, mainly soldiers heading to the morning muster. After a few minutes, the crowd thinned and we continued our chat.

"Master Gimli, will you be going out with the troops tomorrow?" I asked.

"Please, Maeren—I may call you Maeren, may I not? Drop the Master you place before my name. It makes me feel like I should be my grandsire," he said with a smile.

"Of course you may call me Maeren, Gimli," I replied. "A grandsire, indeed! You look to be in your prime. I do hate standing on ceremony, but you never know how other people may react to such familiarity."

"If they act so high and mighty, then they do not deserve our notice nor our respect," he said. After we went a few more steps, he answered my question. "Yes, Maeren, I and my companions are going out with the troops. Aragorn may one day be crowned King of Gondor, but even were he not of high birth, he would still insist on being in the thick of it. And Legolas and I have pledged to go with him—to the death, if it comes to that."

"I do admire your courage, Gimli," I replied. "I will be praying for you and for all the men who will be facing the Dark Lord. We will all praise Eru together, when the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan return victorious from the Black Gates." I tried to sound convinced that what I was saying was true. But I know I did not fool Gimli—or myself—one bit. It would be miraculous were any soldiers to return from this battle.

Gimli looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "You do that, Maeren. Pray for us. And may your prayers be answered."

We were drawing near to the Houses of Healing and I was adopting my posture of Warden—standing straight and tall, chest out, stomach in. In some ways, I dreaded going into the wards again today, but it was my chosen profession and I would do it and do it well. I would have to keep my emotions in check, as I had not done a few nights ago. I had to. I could not let myself crumble over every young soldier that died, as much as I might want to.

As we approached the entrance to the wards, Gimli raised a hand in greeting, and gave a shout of, "It's about time you showed yourself, Legolas."

The Elf was heading toward us, coming from the direction of the Citadel. He bowed to me when we met. "Mistress Maeren, it is my pleasure to see you again." As he straightened, he said to Gimli, in a most superior way, "Ah, Gimli, you chide me for my tardiness, but it is you who are late! I have already greeted the dawn, such as it is." He looked upward into the low, gray sky, a definite air of sadness in his demeanor. "I shall be happy when the dawn may greet me in return." Looking back at Gimli with his piercing blue eyes, he added, "Besides, I was forced to vacate our shared quarters before dawn. The resonance of your snores was so loud, I had to take leave of you or go deaf."

"At least I sleep," Gimli said. "You don't even close your eyes!"

I didn't want to know what Gimli was referring to. Was there some Elven trait that they did not need to sleep? I didn't think I had the time for it to be explained to me in any detail. I needed to get to work. Turning to my new found friend, I said, "Gimli, I am glad you could join me on my walk. It was most pleasant conversing with you, even though it was a short conversation."

Legolas looked askance at me and said, "Mistress Maeren, do not say the word _short_ around Gimli—it makes him feel awkward." I could not tell if the Elf was serious or not. However, the thought that I may have hurt Gimli's feelings was awful to contemplate.

"Dear Gimli," I said, embarrassed at my mistake. "I meant you no slight. Please forgive me!"

Gimli glared at Legolas, then turned to me and said, "Maeren, the Elf was making a feeble attempt at a jest. Think nothing of it. In fact, think nothing of anything he may say!"

I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to get control of my temper. I decided that no comment to the Elf was better than any comment I might have thought to make. Who knew? Perhaps he was getting even for my slight of him yesterday. I chose to ignore his teasing, if you could call it that, and instead took my leave of Gimli.

I said, "Gimli, may the Valar be with you as you go to conquer the Evil One."

He took one of my hands in his, and kissed it. "Maeren, I was blessed when I met you."

I am sure I must have been blushing, but I sketched him a small bow, and, ignoring the Elf once again, turned to enter the Houses of Healing. I turned back, just before closing the inner door and watched as my new friend, Gimli, crossed the street. I prayed that he be kept safe.

_And, I suppose, the Elf too_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Later on in the day, I was tending the young soldier who had been brought in choking a few nights ago. We still did not know his name. He could not speak due to the nature of his injury. The opening the tube created did not allow air to go through his voice box, so he could make no sound. He seemed very frustrated.

I would be able to remove the tube today or tomorrow at the latest. The swelling at the site was almost completely gone. I wanted to err on the side of caution if there was any erring to be done. I decided one more day would be for the best.

The number of injured was still daunting. Their numbers had decreased, either due to deaths or recoveries. I hate to say it, but the death count was high. I tend to take personally anyone I cannot help. This is a particularly bad fault of mine; healers cannot allow themselves to get attached or feel guilt, should things go wrong. I spend more than my fair share of time feeling remorse over someone who dies despite my efforts. It is something I work constantly to overcome.

I was giving the young soldier—I would be very glad when I could stop referring to him as 'the young soldier'—a sponge bath. He was embarrassed and his face was very red. Even his ears were flushed. In an effort to distract him from what I was doing, I tried to keep up a running commentary on current events and the status of the war. I hated speaking of war with someone so young, but if he was old enough to fight in battles, I suppose he was old enough to hear about them. Since he was a soldier, he would want to know the details of all that was going on without him. My efforts at diverting him were not working particularly well. When I moved to uncover a somewhat private part of his anatomy, he grabbed the blanket and would not let go.

What to do? He would not let go of the blanket and I needed to bathe him. It was necessary. He had a bad injury in his side and he needed the bandage changed. And while the bandage was off, it was necessary to keep the rest of him clean. How could I make him understand this?

I explained what I was doing and he just looked at me—his eyes wide—and gripped the blanket even tighter. I told him that I had already seen everything he possessed—multiple times. He still would not relinquish his hold on the blanket. I was getting discouraged, but I didn't want to browbeat the young man, nor did I want to use force. It just wasn't my way.

I sat back , since I was perched on the side of his cot to work, and blew a wayward strand of hair out of my eyes. I was completely at a loss. I supposed I could call one of the male orderlies. It was just so frustrating.

"Are we having problems here, soldier?" I jumped at the suddenness and volume of a very commanding voice. Glancing up, I was completely floored. It was Aragorn.

The young soldier did not know who this stranger was, but the unmistakable authority of his voice brooked no argument. The boy's eyes grew wide again.

"Well?" Aragorn insisted. He had taken on the demeanor of an officer. His back was straight and he had drawn himself up fully to his considerable height.

I spoke up for the boy in the bed. "He isn't refusing to answer you, my lord. He is unable to speak due to one of his injuries."

Aragorn relaxed somewhat. "I suppose I can excuse that," he said, although he was still stern about it. "I hope you are not giving the Warden any grief, soldier. I will be sorely disappointed if you are."

The youth moved to shake his head in the negative, but I reached out quickly and stopped the motion. No sense in tempting fate and risking the tube becoming dislodged at this point.

"I believe he is telling you that he has been, and will continue to be, completely cooperative," I said. "That is correct, is it not, soldier?"

He nodded his head ever so slightly. Aragorn sat on the cot, on the other side of the boy.

"All right, soldier," he said. "I want to talk to you. Hold up one finger for _yes_ and two fingers for _no_." The boy in the bed let go of the blanket in preparation for answering this commander. I looked at Aragorn with one eyebrow raised and a bit of a grin on my face. _Aragorn, you sly devil_.

The boy eyed me as I pulled the blanket away from his body to bathe the rest of him. He had given up his possession of the blanket when he was commanded to use hand signals in answering a superior officer. He pursed his lips as he realized he'd been had.

Aragorn maintained eye contact with the lad and was rapid-firing questions at him. The child couldn't decide whether to risk the embarrassment of my bathing him, or the wrath of what could only be a high-ranking officer. He opted to save his skin in the figurative sense, and kept his eyes trained on Aragorn while answering his questions.

After I had finished bathing the boy, Aragorn asked him a question that would require more than a _yes or no_ answer. When the young man knit his brows together in frustration, Aragorn laughed, and said in a most congenial voice, "It looks as if you have cooperated with the good Warden after all. Good job, soldier." As he stood, Aragorn slapped the soldier's unsplinted leg, hard enough that it must have stung, but the boy's face did not give away the pain he must have felt. An almost imperceptible tightening in his jaw muscles was the only indication of his discomfort. _Boys certainly start young in their quest for manhood._

Aragorn started down the aisle and motioned for me to follow him. As soon as we were outside the wards, he said, "Have you a place where we might talk for a few minutes?"

"Yes," I said, "right this way." I led him to my office, allowed him entrance and closed the door. If anyone had anything to say about my 'closed-door audience' with the soon-to-be King of Gondor, then let them take it up with him. I certainly did not care, one way or the other. I could not for the life of me figure out just what he would need to speak to me of. I believed we had said—and done—all we could say or do to one another. This meeting intrigued me.

He sat down in the chair in front of the desk, while I went around and sat behind it in my creaking chair. The infirmity of my chair did not escape his notice. His eyebrows rose.

"It is a good thing you are a slight woman or you might be picking yourself up from the floor if that chair gives out," he said. He was almost laughing.

I laughed and agreed, then said, "What is it you wish to speak to me about, Aragorn?"

"First of all," he began, "I just wanted to make sure I did not step on your toes with the boy in there. I know how you dislike someone usurping your position." His smile was devilish.

"If you are referring to the incident with that _Elf friend _of yours," I said, "then I can understand how you might get that notion." A smile barely parted my lips. "However, in this case, I was somewhat out of my league, it seems. Other than perhaps tying the boy down or knocking him out, I was out of ideas. Both of those plans seemed a bit harsh, given the circumstances. Actually, I was quite relieved to see you standing there; though I must say, I was rather taken aback to realize it was you behind that commanding voice."

"Well, I have been known to assert myself from time to time," he said. "Though the two whose company I keep do not give me the respect that the lad in there did."

"In my opinion," I said sarcastically, "it would do the Elf some good to be commanded in that fashion."

"Legolas?" he asked, incredulously. "My lady, you know not of whom you speak. I assure you he is quite lethal with a weapon in hand—I value my skin more than that."

"That—that—_Elf_?" I asked, equally incredulously.

"That _Elf's_ looks are quite deceiving. Most Elves' appearances are deceiving, at least as far as their ability to defend themselves is concerned. Legolas is deadly. My advice to you is to never insult him, though I've never seen him raise a hand to a woman before. However, there is a first time for all."

I laughed and said, "Well, Aragorn, I will have to see that to believe it. He looks to be more at home in a garden than on a battlefield."

Aragorn laughed long and with much mirth. My _innocent _statement actually brought tears to his eyes.

"What I would not give to tell him of this conversation," Aragorn said, and I could tell by his expression that he was serious.

My mouth dropped open and my eyes grew wide, I am sure. "You cannot tell him I said that!"

"Your secret is safe," Aragorn assured me.

"You had better not utter a word of this, Aragorn," I said, warning him. "I will not be responsible for the revenge I will take out on you."

"That sounds intriguing." A grin had returned to his face. He added to set my mind at ease, "Have no worry; if I slip and tell him of this, I'll not mention your name." He got up from his chair. "The second reason I stopped by was to find out if there were any more afflicted with the Black Breath. I believe they have all been taken care of?"

"Yes," I said. "You and the sons of Lord Elrond saw to them all, the night of—the battle on the Pelennor." I hoped he hadn't noticed my momentary hesitation. I had almost brought up the _unmentionable_; I was sure it was something he would not appreciate discussing any more than I would.

His voice took on a somber note when he said, "Which leaves the third and final reason for my visit. Maeren, we leave on the morrow for the Black Gates and I may not return. I just wanted to bid you farewell. We do not know each other much at all, but I feel as if I have known you my whole life. Before my departure, I would take my leave of a friend such as you have become."

I stood and went around my desk to stand near him. "You will always hold a special place in my heart, Aragorn. You were there when I needed you and I sincerely thank you for that." I walked toward the door, and added, "As far as your not returning goes, I daresay I know I will be seeing you again. No Orcs or Black Lords or any other foul creature would dare go against you—all you need do is threaten them with, "Are we having problems here, soldiers?" and they will go running to their respective mothers!"

He laughed again and stood before me. He enfolded me into his arms and held me for a brief few moments. He then held me at arm's length and said, "Sweet Maeren, what have I ever done to deserve you?"

He then gave me a short kiss on the nose and opened the door. He looked back and smiled and was gone.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	7. Hosts and Honors

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The wards in the Houses of Healing were still full of wounded from the great battle on the Pelennor. Every day more and more beds became vacant, as the injured became well enough to vacate their cots or those wounded too severely succumbed to their injuries. We were able to return the provisions we had moved into the alleyway, back into the supply rooms where they belonged. Thankfully, we were now able to move all the wounded who still needed care into the main wards. It certainly made treating the injured much easier for the healers. Who would have thought the act of walking from bed to bed would be an arduous task? But it was, when there were so many wounded with their beds scattered in different rooms and down different hallways.

The young soldier who had been brought in the night before the Battle on the Pelennor was progressing nicely. The day after Aragorn's visit, I removed the piece of tubing I had used to open an air passage for him. He was quite stoic during the whole procedure; not only did I have to remove the tube, I had to stitch the incision the tube had been placed in. He was very happy to be able to speak again and I found out quickly that speaking was indeed something he did well and often. He was quite a character, was our Halen. A very sweet boy. I was glad the Valar had been with us when he needed us the most.

He told us the story of how he had become injured. Embellishment is one of his strongest oratory skills, but I am sure some of what he told us was true. The part concerning his broken leg, where he insisted he had fought on and on after receiving a blow from a Dunlander's club, was a bit far fetched. I think it was most likely a very short time between that event and his receiving the wound in his side. You could see by the fear in his eyes, he remembered vividly the sword, and the Uruk-Hai, who had dealt that blow. I had no doubt that that part of the tale was very real. He did not remember being hit in the throat, but that needed no testimony to deem it true. One had only to look at the stitches there for proof of that.

I saw a great deal of Faramir. While he kept his room in the Houses of Healing, he was free to come and go at will, as long as he remained healthy. We became very good friends. I was glad of that. I had not many friends here in the city. I was too busy or otherwise preoccupied to add to my acquaintances. During the evenings, after I had finished work for the day, Faramir and I spoke of many things. After the Host had gone from the city, we spent our time talking about how it would all end. Neither of us had much hope for victory, but neither would we give voice to such a thought. I suppose that meant that we did, indeed, have some shred of hope after all.

It was very difficult to think of our many friends and loved ones who had gone off to Mordor. I have four brothers, all older than I. While they were exasperating as we grew from childhood, they had become fiercely loyal and watchful over me, especially after my husband's death. Even though I had not seen nor heard from them in months, I knew without doubt, that if they still lived, they would be riding with the Eoreds. I kept hoping to see at least one of my brothers come walking up an aisle of the Houses of Healing. It was possible they had arrived with the Rohirrim during the Battle of the Pelennor. However, that never happened. I prayed constantly for their safe return. I refused to believe they were not still alive.

The Houses of Healing had four wings, set up in a square formation. In the center of this square there was a garden. While I greatly enjoyed the time I spent there, it did not compare to the little garden I kept secret. However, it was a wonderful place for Faramir and me to meet and talk. There were stone benches scattered here and there along the paths and among the trees.

The third night after the Host's departure, Faramir and I met as usual. I noticed right away that there was something different about him. He didn't seem as weighed down by the tragedies he had suffered. During our conversation, I noticed that he hadn't been listening to a word I had said.

"Faramir, do you suppose if I wished it very much, that you could arrange for me to grow wings and fly from the walls of the city?" I asked. I wondered what his answer would be, if he did indeed answer me at all.

He suddenly seemed to come back to me somewhat, and he answered vaguely, "Yes, I suppose that could be arranged."

"Well, that's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Why have you kept this talent for bestowing wings a secret for so long?"

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them, and turned to look at me. "What did I just agree to, Maeren? It seems I have been rude and you have been carrying on a one-sided conversation. Please forgive me."

I laughed and said, "There's nothing to forgive, Faramir. I just wonder what fills your thoughts, that you could be so distracted from my wonderful discourse."

He looked down at his clasped hands in his lap. I could see the wheels turning inside his head, wondering if he should discuss with me what was on his mind. Finally, he turned toward me and smiled. "I have seen a woman, in this very garden, and I wonder at whom she is. She is beyond fair. I do not think I have ever seen a woman of her beauty before." The dreamy look that had passed over his features suddenly changed to one of dismay. "Present company excluded, I mean," he added.

"Faramir, do you mean to say that I am _not_ the most beautiful woman you have ever seen? I am very hurt at this revelation." I laughed at his look of total consternation. It felt good to laugh—maybe even seem light-hearted—during so dark a time. "Faramir, I have known all my life that I am not beautiful. And do you know what? I really do not care. There is so much in this life to be excited about, who would want to waste any time pondering their misfortune of being born plain?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Still, Maeren, that was most indelicate of me. But who says you are not beautiful? I think you are. Does my opinion not matter?" Seeing my grin, he confessed, "I am not used to making such blunders. It embarrasses me."

"Well," I said, "embarrassment is also like that. Why waste your time with it? It changes nothing. You just have to say 'oh well, I am an ass,' and move on."

We both laughed at that—he at my words and I at his joy. It was very good to see him with a heartfelt smile on his face.

I knew the woman of which he spoke and decided to play with him no more. "The lady you've seen here in the garden, is Eowyn of Rohan, niece to Theoden, rest his soul, and sister to Eomer," I said.

"_She_ is the sister of Eomer?" he exclaimed. "I would never have guessed, given_ his _looks." He gave me a sideways glance, out of the corner of his eye.

"You had better watch your tongue, my lord Steward," I said with mock soberness. "You speak of my new King. Were I to tell him of your words at his expense, he may just have to call you out!"

"I am truly shaken now, my lady," he answered sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, Faramir," I said, changing the subject somewhat. "Eowyn has been asking to speak to you. She chafes at being cooped up here in the Houses. I see her point, but Aragorn practically made me swear an oath that I keep her here until she is the picture of health. Since you _are _the government during Aragorn's absence, it falls to you to overrule my dictate and grant her leave or not. So she is, therefore, seeking your attention, to free her from my evil clutches." On a more sober note, I added, "However, I fear that while her physical health is much better, her emotional health is far from healed. I suppose she mourns the deaths in her family, but I think it is probably more than that."

Faramir was apparently still stunned by my first sentence. "She wishes to speak to me?" he asked, with a look of total amazement on his face.

I laughed at him again. His countenance was as that of a child presented with a new toy. "Yes, she does," I replied. "She seems to think that if she entreats you in just the right fashion, that you will see her out of my care, and thus, out of these horrid Houses of Healing." I could see his face turning red, even in the half-light of the lamps, which lit the garden. I was beginning to feel remorse for my teasing of him, so I decided to disclose some of what Eowyn really wished to speak to him about.

"Eowyn is a shield maiden, and as such, it galls her to be restricted in any fashion. But, being a woman she knows that her lot in life will not be that of a soldier, as she would wish. I suppose you have heard of her battle with the Nazgul King, have you not?" At his nod, I continued. "She rode with the Eoreds from Helm's Deep, disguising herself as one of the Riders. She is as good with a blade as any man I know—I have seen her in action." I took a few minutes, trying to decide if I should tell him what she would speak to him about. I decided that I might hint. I didn't want him to get his hopes up that she would be speaking to him on a casual and personal basis. She was all business, as he would find out soon enough.

I had spoken to Eowyn many times during her recovery. She was most dejected and in a dark mood. Her fondest desire was to join the Riders of Rohan and Soldiers of Gondor as they set upon the Black Gates. I knew—as did she if she was honest—she was decidedly not up to it. She had a broken arm, for pity's sake!

While she was not usually so forthcoming, she let slip once of her admiration for the new King of Gondor. Her face lit up as she spoke his name. It fell into darkness as she lamented the fact that he was gone to fight the Dark Lord and may never return. She didn't have to say it, but I knew. She thought herself in love with Aragorn.

"I believe that she will speak to you of her idleness, Faramir," I said after a lengthy silence. "She fancies herself well enough to take up the blade, I believe."

"Well, that's decidedly out of the question," he replied vigorously. "She has a broken arm, for pity's sake!"

I smiled at his voicing what I had been thinking. "Indeed she does. And she, like you, was stricken with the Black Breath. And while it seems as if you are recovered, I believe that it still may have its claws in you both—giving you thoughts of despair and hopelessness. I do not know if you still feel such things, but I know Eowyn does."

"I have some black thoughts as does everyone, Maeren," Faramir replied. "They come not so often nor as dark as they did before. Now I truly believe that what worries my soul, are thoughts of the uncertainty and peril in which Middle Earth finds itself."

"I am glad to know it, if you are indeed feeling more hopeful," I said. "You are right. It is very hard to see past the uncertainty of our times right now. All we can do is hope and pray. I wish there was more that we may do, but there isn't. Except maybe keep the home fires burning, for when our soldiers return victorious."

"So," Faramir said, changing the subject yet again. "When may I speak to Lady Eowyn?"

"Whenever you would wish to," I replied. I said no more—teasing him again. _I am so wicked, am I not?_

"Well?" he said. "Will you set it up for me?"

"Oh," I said, feigning ignorance. "You wish for me to set up a meeting between you?"

"As if you didn't know," he replied. _I do believe he is getting testy with me._

"Well, ask me sweetly and I may consider it." I was surely pushing my luck.

"Maeren, you are sorely trying my patience," he said sternly.

I truly was uncertain if I was making him angry or not. "I will set up the meeting, my lord Faramir," I said, as if to a petulant child.

"Good." He said sounding relieved. "When do you think it shall be set?"

"Faramir!" I exclaimed. "You are becoming quite a nag, you know!"

"Hush, and answer my question, Lady Warden," he said.

"All right. I will speak to her this evening and seek you out in the morning, to let you know the exact time and place." I was also growing weary of this game. "I expect she will want to meet with you as soon as she may. She has voiced her wish to be freed of me and the Houses for a few days now."

"And to think, I could have met her before now if you were not so contrary," Faramir replied.

"I believe I am going in, now," I replied. "I have enough whining people on my hands. I need not sit here listening to one unnecessarily, when I may be getting some sleep. Good night, Faramir."

I rose, but I did not even get a step before Faramir was up and at my side. "I am sorry, Maeren," he said, apologetically. "You have a good evening and sleep well. I will see you tomorrow." He gave me a kiss on the cheek. He just couldn't help adding, "Now, when may I expect you to call?"

I gave him a gentle cuff on the chin, and said, "To bed with you, Faramir! You are still recuperating. Get some rest. And that is by the Warden's order."

I left the garden and went to see Eowyn. She was, as I had predicted, very anxious for the meeting with the Steward. And for the reason I suspected. She wished to go fight with the soldiers. I decided to let her hash that out with Faramir. I was sure he could make her see reason.

_Now that is a humorous thought. I do not think there exists a man who could make her see reason. _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Seven days after the Host of the West left to besiege the Black Gates, Minas Tirith was wreathed in gloom. The shoulders of all who were left in the city were stooped and their faces were haggard and ashen. The soldiers had been gone for a week. No word had been sent or received. In the east, the smoke emanating from Mount Doom was thick and pungent. The skies over Gondor were no longer filled with sunshine and fairness. The wind was cold and spoke of shadows and ghosts. An unearthly hush settled over the land. The only sound was of the unrelenting cold wind as it blew through the streets. Minas Tirith was as a tomb—cold, silent and desolate.

Faramir and Eowyn had become friends, after a fashion. I had indeed set up their meeting and they had met every day since. Sometimes they would meet in the garden, and sometimes they would watch the world go by from the walls of the city.

Faramir no longer told me his heart, concerning her. I could sense his frustration, his longing for something more than friendship from her. Even though he didn't voice it, I could see in his eyes the longing for this lady, who was fairer than any other, to his eyes. But she had eyes to the east. She pined to be part of the Host. She sought the eye of the King. She craved the glory of battle.

Glory. What an empty word. Oh, it looked and sounded grand on the surface. But the price one usually paid was too great. Life was lost. Goodness and innocence was lost. Too much was lost in the name of glory. Glory was fleeting. It was Victory in which I put my faith.

Victory wasn't usually pretty. Victory tended to be harsh and muddy and bloody. Yes, life was lost. Yes, innocence was lost. How anyone could call such a thing glorious was beyond my grasp. But in victory, hearts would sing and faces would shine. The lost lives and forsaken innocence were not glorious, but the ones possessing those things had struggled and died for victory, so that all others may live. Yes, victory was what should be sought. Not glory.

My heart broke for everything and everyone who was good in Middle Earth. It seemed as if the Valar had forgotten the people of the land. The darkness over Mordor was spreading over Middle Earth and seeping into the hearts of the people. What was happening at the Black Gates? Was the battle over? Had it even begun?

There were no answers—only questions.

So on this seventh day, I had stepped out of the Houses of Healing around noon. I just needed to get outside, even though the day was cold and gray. I searched the sky for any break in the clouds, but could find none.

I saw Faramir and Eowyn on the walls of the city. They were holding hands! I was so happy for Faramir—and Eowyn, too. She deserved much happiness. I knew that any woman would be blessed to have a man such as Faramir love her. I knew Faramir would settle for no less than Eowyn. He would marry Eowyn or he would marry no one.

I smiled at myself for my unintentional eavesdropping. I was staring at them, wrapped up in their happiness. It was such a small thing, but it was huge, considering the times we were in at present. Any little bit of happiness was to be grabbed and embraced, no matter to whom it belonged or how tiny it may be.

Suddenly, as if a heavy curtain were being drawn and allowing the sun to shine forth, the clouds parted, and the sun did indeed shine! Had anyone been observing the people outside in the streets at that time, they would have seen us all turn our faces as one, to the east. It was from that direction that the clouds were the first to part. As a shade is raised to greet the day, so was the shade over the hearts of all, drawn from covering our hearts and minds. Joy. The emotion all felt was pure joy. And the only reason there could be for such feeling was triumph. Our soldiers had been victorious. It was felt, even before the tidings were told to us.

People began dancing in the street. Soon others who had closeted themselves inside, joined those outside, and the revelry was reaching fever pitch. No one had heard a word of news concerning the battle taking place in Mordor. A joyous feeling had come over one and all, and we all knew that Sauron was no more.

A great eagle came to the city, after a while, and did tell us the news of the Host of the West's triumph at the Black Gates. I had thought that the whole population was already celebrating outside, but that had been just the beginning. It seemed as if people were popping out from everywhere, and the news of the victory was being carried on the lips of everyone. Up and down the streets they went, some of them stopping to bestow hugs and kisses on people they knew. Joyous was the only word to describe it. _Joyous_.

As the days went by, the population in the streets of Minas Tirith grew many times more. People from all over Gondor and Rohan were joining here in the White City, to greet the warriors upon their return. Most of all, to greet what was thought to be their new King. Everyone's spirits were soaring as if they had never been grounded at all. Such merriment and celebration could not be remembered, so long had it been since peace had lay upon the land.

A few days after the victory was announced, Faramir and Eowyn came to me in the Houses of Healing. We met in the garden and they told me they had news to impart to me. Faramir announced to me that Eowyn had been healed. She no longer held black thoughts, nor wishes for that which could not be. He had asked the White Lady of Rohan to be his bride and she had accepted. I had never seen such joy on Faramir's face. Nor on Eowyn's, truth be told.

I announced Eowyn free to go from the Houses of Healing, since she was now well and truly healed. And what did the White Lady say? That she did not want to leave_. I felt like slapping her, truth be known, for all the whining and grief she gave me in her wish to be rid of the wards and of me. _But I was gracious as only a healer can be and I smiled and accepted her as one of my own.

At last, the people of Minas Tirith were seeing the Host return from their triumph. One evening, weeks after the victory, the great lines of Soldiers of the West could be seen approaching the city. The soldiers set up pavilions at the site of where the gates of the city once stood. As it was now, only barricades kept the city gated. The people of Minas Tirith kept an all-night vigil, waiting for the dawn of the new day, which would also herald a New Age—a new age of peace.

The dawn did finally come, and the standard of the Stewards of Gondor was raised upon the White Tower of the citadel for the last time. Faramir, being the Steward of Gondor, at least for the present, along with Hurin, Warden of the Keys, and other captains of Gondor, met and beheld the Host's return. Aragorn stepped forward and Faramir stepped to him.

"Men of Gondor," Faramir said for all to hear, "hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"*****

And all the host and all the people cried _yea_ with one voice.

Aragorn accepted the crown from Faramir, but did not place it on his head himself. He returned the crown to Faramir and said, "By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."*****

It was done according to his wishes, and Aragorn son of Arathorn—Isildur's heir—became King Elessar, the Elfstone, because of the emerald brooch he wore. It had been foretold for him that Elessar would be his royal name. The name of his family was from that time forward known as Telecontar, an Elvish name for Strider, a name by which he was known by most people during his years as a ranger. ******

Yes, it was a splendid and joyful time. All were happy and full of anticipation for a life filled with peace at last.

_Yet there was one, although she knew it not yet, whose peace would be short lived. She had a tiny seed of uncertainty within her, which was about to make itself known in an unexpected turn of events._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

* Quotes from Return of the King, pp 945-946

**Taken from The Complete Guide to Middle Earth, Robert Foster, p. 24


	8. Retching and Royalty

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

My shaking fingers grasp my chamber pot, my knuckles pale to match my face. I cannot remember ever being this sick for so many days_. _Every day since shortly after the coronation of Aragorn—I mean King Elessar—nausea has assailed me, leaving me heaving and retching just as I am now.

_What can possibly be wrong with me? _

_Stop lying to yourself. You know very well what is wrong with you. _

I have been half standing, half hanging, my elbows supported by the top of the washstand—my face inches over my reeking chamber pot. After several moments, I finally feel it is safe to stand without aid. I tip the pitcher I keep on the washstand, filling the small cup I have sitting there with water. I reach for a towel that hangs on a hook on the wall beside the washstand. Pouring a small bit of water onto the towel, I mop the cold sweat from my face and neck. After rinsing my mouth, I again straighten, refusing to look at my image in the mirror.

I let my shaking knees carry me to my small table. I have not even had a chance to change from my nightdress this morning. Slowly I lower myself into a chair, being careful not to jar my still roiling stomach. I close my eyes and tip my head back, stretching my neck. I choose to clear my mind. Thinking of what ails me fills me with such fear, I cannot begin to approach allowing it into conscious thought.

But circumstances demand that I give this the attention it deserves. This has to be the most terrifying thing to befall me in my entire life. The loss of my little family was the most grievous thing I had ever lived through, to be sure. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of them at least once. But it was hardly, I now realize, the most terrifying thing to happen to me. _This_ has to be the scariest thing. I feel a deep, cold void in my stomach every time I think of it. My blood runs cold at the thread of thought I refuse to think about. I am absolutely undone by this.

_What am I going to do?_

I put both of my elbows on the table, holding my head in my hands. The tears start unbidden, falling straight from my eyes onto the tabletop. _How could I have done this? How could I have? _I have asked myself this question over and over again. Ever since I had come to the conclusion that what ails me is not an ailment at all—I am with child.

My encounter with Aragorn, before he was crowned King, has come back to haunt me in the worst possible way. A way that is all too real and frightening.

I was going to have the King's baby.

_Valar, help me_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

A month after the King's coronation, Elves began arriving in Minas Tirith. Many, many Elves. They were every bit as mysterious and beautiful as I expected them to be. I was invited to a banquet held a week before the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen, the Evenstar of her Elven people. The feast was held in honor of the arrival of Lady Arwen and her family—her father, Elrond, Lord of Imladris, and her brothers, Lords Elladan and Elrohir. Her grandparents—the rulers of Lothlorien—the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, were also in attendance. Of course, they had an entire entourage of Elves in service to them. There were more Elves in Minas Tirith than there had ever been before, I suspect.

For the life of me I could not figure out who had invited me to this affair. But one just does not ignore an invitation that is hand carried and is sealed with the Royal Crest. How was I ever going to make it through this evening? Knowing what I know, how can I face Lady Arwen? Or her family?

I worried over my attire for days before the big event and finally chose a dress I had not worn in more than fifteen years—my wedding dress. I could not help the tears I wept as I brought it out of the old chest where it resides and tried it on after all this time. I could hardly believe that it was almost too large—except in the bosom. There it was almost too snug. I was somewhat surprised that my figure was not more enhanced, so to speak, over the passage of time since my wedding day. Yet, if I thought about it, it was hardly surprising that it was almost too large—I had been retching so much that I was sure I had lost at least a few pounds since the beginning of all this.

The dress was not white, for which I was extremely grateful now. There would be no cause at all for anyone to suspect that I owned no formal attire besides the dress I was married in. The dress was the softest color of blushing pink. However, I was no longer a blushing bride, but a widow—a widow who had a tryst with the King. How was it that all my thoughts gravitated to the same matter—my affair with Aragorn and the results of that one night? _Valar help me to not dissolve into a puddle of sweat during this evening_.

On the night of the banquet, I was quite surprised when of all people, Legolas came to escort me to the citadel. He did look dashing in his formal attire, but I still could hardly bear to be near him. I had tried to reason out why he should vex me so and I finally came up with the answer: I just really disliked this Elf. I hated the way he spoke to Gimli when we went on our walk those many weeks ago. The fact that Gimli seemed more amused than hurt or angry, cooled my own anger somewhat. And that prank he had played at my expense did not help to elevate my opinion of him. On our first meeting, Legolas had treated me as a female who would break under the weight of the soldier I was helping to the wards. Adding insult to injury, he then surmised that I was merely an aide in the Houses of Healing, when _in fact_, I was the one in charge. After all the pain, trouble, and frustration—not to mention obstacles unceasing—I had earned the right to be recognized as I deserved. The fact that he did not know this was beside the point. He just irks me to no end. I am sure that as soon as all the festivities in Minas Tirith are over, Legolas will find somewhere else he'd rather be—at least I hope so.

I was kind to him, at least I tried to be. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt that he would not say something inane to me between the time he arrived at my door and the time we arrived at the banquet. Surprisingly, and to my great relief, he said nothing on the brief walk to the citadel. After the way I had insulted him the first time I was introduced to him, I could not be sure I would be able to refrain from doing so again, if provoked. No, not if—_when_—provoked. I had confidence that were we to be in each other's company for more than just a few minutes, he would be sure to step on my toes—figuratively speaking, of course.

There was one thing about me that I always thanked the Valar for, because it came in handy from time to time, since I was on my own and alone. I had an uncanny ability to quickly and accurately make a judgment of character upon meeting someone for the first time. It did not take long for me to decide whether the object of my scrutiny was bent toward good or evil—or even somewhere in between. Without fail, those I took an instant dislike to always turned out to live up to my expectations—or down to them, whichever way you saw it. I tried giving them every chance to prove me wrong, but the stronger my dislike upon meeting them, the worse the individual turned out to be. I had sized up thieves and abusers correctly too many times to believe my intuition was not a gift.

Legolas did not fit into either of those categories. I had no doubt that he was not evil. You could see the goodness in him. It was his irritating personality that got to me so. I was wondering, since I had such feelings of distaste for him, if Legolas was a true representative of the Elves. I had no inclination to spend this entire evening being insulted, unintentionally or not. I believe that people are mostly the same, whatever their race. Even though Legolas was the first, and only Elf, I had thus far met in my life, I found it hard to believe that all Elves would be so irritating.

The hall where the banquet was held was one of magnificent proportions. This is the first time I had really been into the Citadel. I had, of course, been in the lower circles before, but the seventh circle was held in awe by the common folk like me. I was not surprised to find that the hall was plainly decorated. I, of course, did not know Lady Arwen, but even the brief time I spent with Aragorn—I mean His Majesty—I could tell he was probably not the sort that enjoyed tasteless and gaudy excesses that most royalty were known for.

The Royal family, as well as the bride-to-be's relatives, was to be seated on an elevated dais along a formally set table. Down on the floor level were many other tables aligned end to end. The final picture was of a large square. It was all most lavish, and I was in total awe. I struggled to keep my mouth closed, for the awesome spectacle tended to leave it agape. I hope I was successful; I did not wish these dignitaries to believe I was here only for the purpose of elevating my nonexistent prestige. No, I was here by Royal command only. I had no desire to be anywhere near the bride or her family, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were Elves. I tried very hard not to let Legolas know I was quaking in my shoes. I do not know how successful I was. A few times he looked down on me with knitted brows, and asked, "Are you well, Mistress Maeren?" To which I replied, "Yes, I am quite well, just a bit nervous to be in such exalted company." I sincerely hoped he did not think I included him with the exalted ones, but he did not ask and I did not volunteer the information.

The evening was interminable. I was delighted, however, to be greeted just within the door by Gimli. I felt that I could easily be fast friends with Gimli, but I knew not if he held my company in the same esteem. He was resplendent in his finery, his bushy red hair and beard combed and braided to perfection.

"Maeren, how wonderful to see you!" He said enthusiastically. You would think we had not just this morning seen each other. Soon after the war was over, and things had settled down somewhat, Gimli had started meeting me each morning, and joining me on my walk. He would wait by the same lamppost he'd been leaning against the morning of my tasteless prank involving the drunken soldier and his 'tangled' boot strings.

The tables were lavishly set and arrayed with foods unceasing, some of which I had never even seen before, much less tasted. _Those must be contributions from the Elvish side of the family._ As soon as the meal was finished, all those in attendance repaired to the next room—the ballroom—for more lavish entertainment. The musicians were attired in formal wear to match the royal attendants and were very accomplished violinists, cellists, and harpists. I only wished to go home. My stomach had begun its usual protest and I could feel the nausea returning. I was fervently hoping that my evening meal would not be called forth before I could take my leave of the palace.

The King escorted Lady Arwen around the room, introducing her to the various groups of people who were surrounding the dance floor. When at last it was my turn to be introduced to her, I was sure I was as white as the tablecloths adorning the refreshment tables. I sincerely hoped it was not noticeable that I was shaken to the bone, though in truth, I did not know how it could not be obvious.

"Arwen, may I present Lady Maeren, daughter of Maedren of Rohan, the Warden of the Houses of Healing?" The King stated this with the dignity of one who has _not _slept with the woman whom he was introducing to his Bride-to-be_. Men—there was just no figuring them._ I bowed my head slightly, as was proper, and said, "It is my honor and my pleasure to meet you, My Lady." _Could they hear the tightness of my voice? Could they see my hands shake? _I prayed not_._

"It is my pleasure to meet you as well." Arwen's voice seemed to sing the words instead of merely speak them. I was awestruck by her presence. She continued, "I hope to become better acquainted with you—as soon as all the ceremonies and festivities are over."

"And I, you," I answered politely.

Then, they were off to the next group of people, much to my relief. _Would I live through this evening? _I had extreme doubt that I would.

When the introductions were completed, the King and soon to be Queen began the dancing, while the others not dancing conversed quietly off the dance floor. Lady Arwen was exquisite. There was just no word to describe her beauty and grace. She seemed to glide instead of walk and she danced with the same gracefulness. I was introduced to Lord Elrond and his sons, and found them to be most pleasant company. _My, they were beautiful. Could one use that word to describe males?_

Elladan, one of Lady Arwen's brothers, escorted me onto the dance floor. Thankfully it was a slower dance than were some of the others. I was beginning to feel decidedly unwell. Elladan seemed to sense my discomfort. He asked after my health. "Lady Maeren, you look pale. Are you well?"

"I think it a bit stuffy in here," I said. "Perhaps I will go get a breath of air after this dance." I hoped I would make it until the music ended.

After our turn around the dance floor, Elladan and I again joined Lord Elrond and Elrohir, who were having a good-natured argument about the piece of music that had just been played. I really could not think of much except the turning of my stomach, so to speak, so I cannot say who exactly emerged the winner. Just as I was thinking I may be saved from disgracing myself, who should join us but the King? I only thought my stomach was in turmoil before. Now it truly began to send me messages of impending doom.

"I see you have met the Warden of the Houses of Healing," Aragorn said to those surrounding me.

"Ah yes, and a delightful healer she is, indeed," said Elrond, with a smile and a dip of his head to me.

"I have come to ask her to dance with me. Maeren, will you do me the honor?" He offered his arm to me and unfortunately, I could not think of any valid reason—that was also common knowledge—not to do so.

We began the dance, _thank the Valar it is not a fast one_, and I began the conversation. "Think you it is wise for us to be dancing like this?"

"I can think of no reason for us not to do so," he replied. "In fact, had I not asked for this dance, it might have seemed amiss of me. Better to err on the side of caution, since the reason we would not dance is not known by any others but ourselves."

I found I could not argue with this, so I let the subject drop. Soon, thankfully, the dance was finished and I was returned to Lord Elrond and his sons. I had barely made it off the dance floor, when I knew my meal was coming up to greet us all. I knew not where to turn. I was disoriented and did not know the palace. I ran for one of the nearly empty punch bowls and lifted it from the table, squatting behind it just out of sight and retched my guts out—again.

I was mortified. I wanted to sink into the floor and never emerge again. I shoved the now nasty punch bowl beneath the table, pushing the tablecloth aside, wiping my mouth on it, and dropping it again to hide my disgrace. My cheeks were hot from the embarrassment of it all and I thought I would faint when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to find a very concerned Lord Elrond at my side. I rose slowly.

"Mistress Maeren," he said "perhaps we can find a couch upon which you may recline until you feel well enough to return to your home." His hand on my shoulder slid down my arm as I stood, and held me steady as I trembled from faintness. He looked into my eyes. I hoped he did not see written in them my guilt and shame. For a moment I was transfixed. It seemed as if he had asked my permission to gaze into my heart and I had given it without conscious thought.

I came back to myself and stammered, "Oh no, thank you Lord Elrond. I just need to go home and I am quite well enough to do so."

There was now a royal crowd around me—the King, the soon to be Queen, her grandparents and brothers—even the Steward of Gondor, Faramir, and his fiancée, Eowyn. I sighed in relief as I also spied Gimli and I breathlessly asked him, "Gimli, my dear friend, would you be so kind as to escort me home?"

He sketched a slight bow and said, "T'would be my pleasure, my lady."

He took my arm and I murmured my thanks and regrets to all around me and left with Gimli.

_Thanks be for punch bowls and dear friends._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

When we reached my door, I invited Gimli inside. I warned him that it was just one small humble room, but he assured me that if I had a table with some chairs in which to sit, it would be a fine place for us to visit. If I was up to it, that is.

I closed the door after us and invited my friend to sit at the table. I put the water on for tea and set out cups and saucers. "Do you take honey or milk with your tea, Gimli?" I asked.

"Maeren, go to no trouble for the likes of me. You are feeling poorly. Now come and sit yourself down," he said. I smiled at him. I could tell he was completely sincere.

"You are more than worth the trouble, dear Gimli," I said. "But it is truly no trouble, and I feel a good cup of tea may settle my stomach somewhat."

I did sit down, waiting for the water to boil. "I am mortified by my behavior at the banquet," I whined. "How could I have done such a thing? And in front of the King and Lady Arwen, and her family and—oh, I just cannot believe it!" With my elbows on the table, I buried my face in my hands.

"Maeren, you were ill," Gimli admonished me. "Tis nothing to be ashamed about. Everyone there more than understood the situation and were only concerned with your health, I am sure." _Gimli was such a sweet person. _"Maeren, I hope not to exceed the limits of our friendship, but I have been worried about you of late. Is there aught I should know? Are you sure you are not more ill than you are letting on?"

I felt that deep-seated fear that had become one of my most frequent companions of late. How I wanted to confide in Gimli, but I had not even told Aragorn as of yet. I had not even voiced the truth aloud at all. I just could not bring myself to tell Gimli in any case. I feared his reaction. It would hurt too much were he to condemn me.

"I am sure, Gimli," I said. However I did add, "I have been feeling poorly of late, that is true. But it is nothing that time and taking care of myself will not cure." _That was certainly true enough, in the most basic definition of my condition._ _I hoped he would think so if—or when—he heard the complete truth. _

The tea was ready and I poured, and we drank, and we talked. We actually laughed, which felt good for a change. I had not had much to smile at lately, much less laugh about. After an hour or so, Gimli took his leave of me and left. My room suddenly felt very large and lonely.

I got myself ready to go to sleep. I unpinned my hair, swiped a damp cloth over my face and donned a nightdress. I blew out all the lamps, save the one on a stand near my bed. I lay down and pulled the sheet and quilt up snugly around me. It was certainly not cold and spring was in the air, but I needed warmth and security and this quilt was the only thing I had that would offer such a thing to me tonight. After lying there for a few minutes, I blew out the lamp and settled my head back into my pillow.

I tried to imagine that the quilt was Dustin, with his arms tightly around me, lying here in our bed. Just the two of us in our bed, like it used to be. How I missed him. How I wanted him. How I needed him.

Would he understand the state I now found myself in? How would he react were he here to witness my downfall? Were he here, there would be no downfall to witness. I would not have been despairing in a shabby city in Gondor, in a tiny not-so-secret garden_. _I would not have needed another's arms around me; his would still be here to hold me instead.

_Merciful Valar, please let me sleep. No dreaming. My dreams were of things I no longer had, and upon rising in the morning, they would vanish with the coming of the dawn._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_


	9. Fiascos and Friends

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The day following the fiasco of the banquet, I was again hard at work in the Houses of Healing. There were still some soldiers in the wards, mostly victims of burns who were still recovering. They were slowly but surely regaining their health. There were dressings to change, wounds to drain and other equally unsavory procedures the patients detested having done and I had not the stomach for right now, truth be known.

I do not understand how I can be inured to revolting and disgusting sights all the time, but now, while I am with child, I am vomiting constantly. I have been sick over nothing and over sights I have seen and dealt with thousands of times before. I was not this sick when expecting Tristin. It had been many years ago, but a woman does not endure retching her guts out and not remember it. I was sure to remember this pregnancy—and not necessarily because of the physical misery of it, either.

I have put off one unsavory chore for longer than is wise. I must tell this baby's father that he and I did more than just share a night of passion. We created life. I am scared to death. And Aragorn? I knew not what emotion he might have. I feared the worst.

During our night together he had been caring and kind. We neither held false beliefs that the other had developed love or some equally strong emotion for the other as the result of our tryst. He had been tender with me and cared for my welfare. He had mourned fallen friends and had shown fear for those that would follow him in battle. Why would I think he might have changed, simply because he now wore a crown?

That was the reason—he wore a crown. Power did things to people. It corrupted the seemingly incorruptible. It made tyrants out of lambs. The smiles which might be beamed at those he would govern before all the pomp and circumstance, could turn to sneers of disgust for such lowly men after the crown was firmly in place.

Would Aragorn have changed? I do not know. But the thought scares me just the same.

I feel that I really should not put this off much longer, but I have no idea how he will react. Will he want to send me away? Or perhaps pay me to leave and never set foot in Gondor again? Or ask if I, being a healer, knew of any way to dispose of our little problem? _Valar, I was petrified. And I had no one—no one—to talk to about this._

I decided to go to my rooms. I felt nauseous again and I did not want to raise suspicions here in the wards any more than they already were. As it is, I have already had a couple of inquiries as to the state of my health, so I know I am treading on thin ice. I called to Ioreth on my way out, leaving the wards in her capable hands.

She was still unmoved by anything I said or did to give me any ground in our war for control of the Houses of Healing. She spoke to me when she needed to, and only then in the most sarcastic of voices. Most of the other aides had gradually come to give me my due respect. After they saw the 'miracle' of my saving Halen, the choking boy three months ago, the aides had loosened up somewhat. Some were even showing signs of being interested in becoming fully trained healers themselves. Normally I would have been elated at their enthusiasm, wanting to further their interest by teaching them whatever they wished to learn. But my mind was so overwhelmed with panic, that my brain allowed nothing else to enter my thoughts.

I reached my room and the doorknob gave its usual groan as I turned it. I would like to find some oil somewhere and give it a good going over. There was enough groaning in my life, from patients as well as from myself lately. I had no need to also hear complaints from my door.

Perhaps the smithy down the street would have some oil and would maybe spare me a drop or two. Last week I removed a sliver of metal from one of his eyes. Maybe he would consider that payment enough. I hope he does. I truly want this doorknob silenced, if possible.

However, I have no coin at all. None. The wage I should have been earning has been nonexistent for the last few months. The aides and I have been living on victuals brought to the infirmary by the kitchen help. When they feed the soldiers in the barracks, they bring enough for us to distribute among the wounded, to those who can eat a meal. There is usually enough to feed the aides and me as well. The sustenance isn't much, but at least it is free. We are all thankful for that.

As I entered my room, I turned and closed the door, stopping for a moment to rest my forehead against the cool wood. Another wave of nausea overtook me_. Please stay down, lunch. I wish not to have to see you a second time today._

But it was not to be. I just made it in time to my chamber pot that had taken up permanent residence on a table just inside the door. _Thanks be the room is small._

As I rinsed my mouth and the chamber pot again for at least the third time today, I began to cry. _Weeping and retching seem to be the things I am best at lately_.

I gave in to self-pity. My life has become a source of misery for me. If I am not retching, I am crying. And if I am not crying, I am overwhelmed with fear. I must tell Aragorn about the child I carry before I drive myself over the brink into insanity.

But what do I tell him? How do I say to the King of Gondor that he is about to be put into a very precarious personal - as well as social - position only weeks since his coronation? Will he have to speak to his advisers of this? What will he say to his future bride? What will she say to him? Or to me? So many questions and no answers forthcoming. And no answers will be given until the problem is disclosed.

I sat down at my little table in the center of my room and lay my head on my arms. I sobbed. I was so tired. _So very tired_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The next thing I knew I was waking up with my arms asleep and my eyes nearly stuck shut with dried tears. Slowly I lifted my head and sat up. _I will think of this no more today_.

Of course that is easier said than done. I had to get out of here and clear my mind. I glanced at my appearance in the mirror above the washstand and found it to be sorely lacking—lacking color and lacking anything except an expression of woe and despair. I ran a wet cloth over my face, paying special attention to my eyes. I took a deep breath, looking away from my reflection in the mirror. Funny, it was hard to look at my image lately. _Shame, perhaps? Probably_.

I left my room and headed down the hallway leading to the Houses of Healing. I passed the door that would take me into the wards and exited from the front hallway. I looked each direction, up and down the street, mentally tossed a coin, and decided to go to the right.

It was amazing how clear the sky had become since the fall of Sauron. The sun was such a welcome sight and it touched my face with warmth. It felt good. It never ceased to amaze me how we take for granted that which is commonplace most of the time, until it is denied us. I would never take fresh air and sunshine for granted again.

I walked along with my mind going at a furious rate, again thinking of that which antagonized me day and night. _I thought I told you not to think of this any more today!_

I was lost in thought and I did not see Faramir approaching. I almost passed him by and that would have been most rude. He had stopped as I advanced, obviously about to share a few pleasantries with me before I continued down the street. He reached out to me as I drew even with him, to get my attention. It was this action of his which saved me. I had not seen him, as immersed in misery as I was.

"Maeren, may I be of some assistance to you?" he asked, concerned. "I think you may not be well from your sickness of last night."

I jumped at the sudden startlement of his voice and realized the social blunder I had almost made. _Valar, another social blunder!_

"Faramir," I said breathlessly. "Please forgive me. I was not paying attention. Thanks be I was not walking toward a wall! I most assuredly would have broken my nose."

He chuckled, then said quite lightly, "Maeren, why the frown? The sun is shining and there is a pleasant breeze. What troubles you on such a fine day?"

I almost blurted out my problem. _What was I thinking?_

"Nothing, truly, Faramir. I suppose I was thinking of how embarrassing my little display was at the banquet last night. I had not even wished to be there in the first place, but was summoned by Royal Invitation, so I had no choice in the matter."

Faramir looked at me guiltily. "It was I who made sure an invitation was sent to you, Maeren. I thought you should get out some—you have been cooped up in the wards for much too long, and truthfully, it seems to have taken a toll on your health. I thought so before, but after last night, I am sure of it. I am sorry if I have overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. I meant well."

"Faramir," I said, "I truly thank you for your concern, but there is nothing wrong. I am simply, as you surmised correctly, working too hard and not resting enough. I will be well as soon as I get more rested. There are still wounded soldiers in the wards, you know."

"And that is what aides are for," Faramir admonished.

"Speaking of the aides," I said, thankful for a change of subject, "they are sorely in need of their wages. It disturbs me greatly. The aides have families who truly need those wages on which to live. It was fortuitous that I ran into you this afternoon. I had been planning to discuss this with you for a while now, but other things kept intruding on my time."

"Well, you have my attention now. Why do we not go back to my office and discuss this problem? I confess, I have been neglecting my duties as far as the Houses of Healing are concerned," he said apologetically. "My only excuse would be that the running of a city and country are overwhelming to a ranger of Ithilien."

Faramir seemed to have stepped into his duties as Steward of Gondor with ease. He had been the consummate soldier, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien. Now he was the Steward, helping the King in overseeing all the government of Gondor. The change in his roles, and his ease of transition, was amazing to behold. His critical comment on himself just was not true.

We had many talks when he was recovering from his encounter with the Black Breath and his shoulder wound. After our initial meeting, it had become much easier to get him to open up to me. I felt that he had needed someone to confide in for quite a while. He told me he used to have long talks with Boromir, his older brother. But after they had both been assigned to their respective duties, they rarely got the chance to meet, much less talk at any length. Faramir and I had grown to be friends, then. While he still knew little of me or my life, I felt like I had come to know him pretty well.

We turned and walked back the way from which he had come. We were silent as we entered the hall and walked the short way to his office. He opened the door and went in, nodding to his secretary, a man by the name of Doren, as he passed to sit at his desk. He motioned me to a chair positioned across from him.

"Again, allow me to apologize," Faramir said. "I admit that the Houses of Healing have not been in the forefront of my mind." He began to rifle through papers that were in neat piles on his desk. He was about to call to his secretary when the man magically appeared to his right, handing him a ledger. Looking at Doren quizzically, Faramir thanked him, and set the book on the desktop, turning the pages until he found the one he wanted.

"Ah, yes," he said. "The aides are owed quite a bit of back wages. As are you, Maeren. I will see to rectifying this immediately. I would have expected Lord Jeneson to inform me of this oversight. I must speak to him about his dereliction of duty."

He gave me a devilish glance, "Lord Jeneson is quite the character, is he not? I would much prefer to have someone, say, such as you, behind the desk in his office." He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. "Now, tell me, how is your life since things have begun to get back to normal?"

_Oh Valar, no! Do not let me weep! Please do not let me weep!_

But as they had a habit of doing lately with the least provocation, my tears started flowing before I could even grab my hankie. Faramir leaned forward, concern crossing his face. He then stood, walked over to Doren and sent him on some errand, insuring our privacy. He then came to my side, and squatting to face me at eye level, he placed his fingers on my chin, guiding my face toward his so that he may have a clearer look at me.

In a quiet and soothing voice he said, "Maeren, what is it? Please talk to me. I should have known it was more than just past wages concerning you. You have not looked right for a while now. Every time we have met lately, I have become increasingly aware that you look as if you are under some great strain. And not only that, you seem to be wasting away before my very eyes. Please tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can help."

"I think you could not help with this, Faramir," I wept. "It is a personal problem of great magnitude and I know not what to do. And I am too ashamed to tell anyone about this."

"Maeren, I feel as though we have come to know each other pretty well—and as friends. All the time we spent together as I recovered from my sickness served in our getting to know one another. I promise you, whatever this is, it will go no further. You have no reason to fear that this will become common knowledge. Please trust me, Maeren."

Faramir looked so sweet and caring, my tears only increased. He then gathered me into his arms, pulling me up to stand with him. He drew me into an embrace, hugging me, until my sobs began to ease. I finally stopped crying and pulled myself together. He reached into his pocket and gave me his handkerchief, which I accepted gratefully.

"I am so embarrassed for bawling like an infant," I started. Then I realized what I had said and another spate of tears fell down my face. He sat me back down and dragged his chair around his desk to be near mine.

"Think nothing of it," he said. "Come now; please continue."

I began haltingly. Did I really wish to discuss this with him? I must speak of it to someone or I feared I would go mad. I needed advice and comfort so badly. I decided to trust him and reveal my secret.

"I am with child." There is nothing like bluntness, but I knew if I did not get right to the point I would lose my courage.

To say he looked stunned would have been an understatement. He licked his lips, trying to decide what to say to me. He had apparently not expected this particular revelation. After a few tense moments, he said, "Maeren, this is not necessarily bad news." His voice was forced, as if he really didn't mean what he was saying. "I think it is very pleasant news. A new life is always welcome, whether it is convenient or not."

"But you do not know the half of it," I practically wailed.

He took my hands in his, trying to calm me down, and said, "Take a deep breath and tell me the other half of it." He smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back through my tears.

"I know not how to say it. I have been thinking of nothing but this ever since I became aware of it, but speaking it out loud somehow makes it all too real. I suppose I have been trying to deny it on some level. But the time is short in how much longer it can be denied." I looked down, ashamed.

He again touched my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"How long have you known?" he asked me.

"For well over a month," I replied. "I am about three months along."

"I know not much about these sorts of matters, but even I suspect time does grow short."

I lifted his kerchief to my eyes and silently wept again. But I had someone to listen and perhaps give me guidance, so I quickly gave Faramir my attention again.

"Am I wrong when I think there must be more to this story, Maeren? You can tell me; I'll not judge you."

Gathering my courage, I said, "The baby's father is someone you know quite well. In fact, you work for him." I looked down and then back up at Faramir. "It is Aragorn." My voice had trailed off, almost whispering the name.

I was tempted to reach out to grab him. I was afraid the shock was going to make him faint and fall from his chair. He paled and actually gaped at me. I began to weep again_. Blast these tears! I am so sick of them!_

_I should never have told him. He is going to have to reveal this to Aragorn himself. Faramir will never be able to look at me in the same way again. I will have lost one of the few friends I have in here in Minas Tirith. He will be ashamed of me, as I am of myself_.

He got up from his chair and walked to a table next to his desk where stood a decanter and glasses. He poured himself a small amount of what appeared to be brandy. Tossing that back, he wiped his hand across his mouth and again looked at me. For a moment I feared he would question my integrity, in naming the King as my consort. But Faramir, being the true friend that he was turning out to be, believed me without any doubt.

"You have left me speechless," he said. "Not because I find you lacking in any way—I will never think ill of you." He poured himself another swallow of brandy. He turned around toward me. His face was a mask of confusion. He finally said, "How and when did this happen?"

I had to have turned a hundred shades of red—my face grew hot. I again looked at my hands, which I had begun to wring in my lap.

He walked back to me then and said, "Forgive me. Forget I asked that. It is not my business."

He stood beside me, gazing into the room in general. "I have a million thoughts running through my mind and need to sort them out. As of now I know not what advice to give you. Let me think on it a while. Do not fear I will abandon you with this, because I will not. Neither will your news pass my lips to another soul."

I was physically and mentally drained. I wasn't really sure if revealing my secret to Faramir had been wise or not. I was beyond much feeling at all. I was exhausted and needed to be home. I rose and held my hand out to Faramir. "I am sorry to burden you with this, but I really believe you would have been informed of it sooner or later, and not necessarily by me."

He took my hand and kissed it. "Fear not, Maeren. We will decide the best course of action. Knowing Aragorn, he will be most gracious and will not take his responsibility lightly. Nor will he pretend that you are solely responsible in this. Our new King is honorable. All will be well."

I turned and walked toward the door, surprised when Faramir made to join me. "I think you are in need of an escort, Maeren," he said. "You look as if you will not make it two steps; certainly not all the way back to your home."

I thanked him and we left the office, walking back across the street to my room. When we reached my door, I turned the knob, and as always, it groaned. I turned back to Faramir and said, "I praise the Valar for giving you to me as a friend. Thank you for listening to me and thank you for helping me."

"You were a true friend to me first, Maeren," he said, giving me another hug. "I will get back to you soon and we can discuss what we will do about this little problem."

He smiled a beautiful smile. "I cannot help but be glad about this, though, even if it is somewhat awkward. A new life! That is marvelous indeed."

He then turned and walked away and I entered my room, closing my door.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	10. Debates and Damages

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Two days later, Faramir caught up with me as I was going through the wards checking on patients. It was something I did first thing every morning. As he approached me, I left Ioreth in charge. Unfortunately for her, she had not noticed Faramir's entrance, and as usual, she exhibited the attitude—disdain—she always displayed to me whenever we had the necessity to speak to one another.

With raised eyebrows Faramir questioned me silently, having obviously noticed Ioreth's coldness. I shook my head and said, "Never mind. We don't get along as a rule."

Ioreth turned and looked at me, frowning. It was then that she noticed the Steward's presence. Her expression quickly changed to one of innocence, as if to dispute my word concerning our relationship. It was obvious that she did not want the Steward to think ill of her, even if she did deserve it. I ignored her and started down the aisle saying, "I'll be in my office should you need me." And under my breath, but still loud enough for Faramir to hear, I said, "Middle Earth would disintegrate into a puddle of mud before she would admit that she needed me." He just laughed and followed me out of the ward.

We went into my cluttered office, which was adjacent to one of the supply rooms. After Faramir entered, I closed the door. I cared not a whit if anyone thought it unseemly for a single—even though widowed—woman, to be closeted alone with a man, even if he was the Steward of Gondor. Let their tongues wag. I had other problems on my mind. Tongues would certainly wag if the general public knew the gist of the conversation I was about to have with the Steward. Yes, the door was best left closed.

I sat at my desk, which was really a two-foot wide plank of oak held up by a whiskey barrel under each end. The Houses of Healing were not, as a general rule, high on the list of priorities for the government of Gondor, at least while Lord Jeneson had control—or lack thereof—of his office. I placed my elbows on the desktop, dropping my face into my hands. When I finally looked up, Faramir was seated in a chair across from me with a look of what I took as pity on his face.

"Faramir," I said, "I need your help—desperately—not your pity."

He looked away for a moment and then he faced me again. "It really isn't pity you see on my face. You see concern. How are you feeling—physically, I mean? You look tired and unwell. Methinks the healer needs a healer herself!"

I smiled. "I am tired, Faramir, and very troubled. As a result I can keep little down. But that goes with my condition. I'm not really unwell, Faramir. I am simply with child. Although there is certainly nothing simple about this."

"I have tried to reason out all the possibilities and probabilities of this problem. I'm still not sure I was able to think of all the eventualities of this dilemma." He looked most unhappy. I took that to mean that his answers to my problem would be solutions I probably would not like.

I inhaled deeply, preparing myself for the inevitable bad news. "All right, Faramir. What is your counsel in this?"

"My counsel," he began, "is that which you already know. The first thing you must do is tell the King." He looked at me as if he were expecting me to either dissolve into tears or shout at him, whichever mood took me at the moment. I did neither, so he stood and continued, "Depending on what he says, as I see it, there are a couple of possibilities to consider. I wish not to repeat that which you have thought of yourself, so feel free to stop me if I seem to ramble."

He wandered over to a bookcase near the door and stopped, apparently lost in thought. He picked up a skull that was perched on one of the shelves. After a few moments of silence, he said, "I think that you would be uncomfortable staying here in Minis Tirith, even if the King were to consider such a thing. So that leaves the question of where to go. How would you feel about returning to Edoras? You have family there, do you not? They could look after you, which I believe you need, although you did not ask my opinion in that, I am aware." At my raised eyebrows and thinned lips, he sighed, and said, "I take it Edoras is out."

I nodded. "I would bring grief to my family were I to show myself there in my condition—and without a husband—even were I to fabricate a dead one." I cringed as I thought of my Dustin. I said a silent prayer that he could not hear me. "If the truth became common knowledge, as it is apt to do in a close-knit place, it would disgrace my father. I refuse to have that happen. Besides, I have never been good at telling untruths, so I would still be very distraught about the whole thing."

I again held my head in my hands. It seemed too heavy for my neck to support right now. After the briefest of moments, I straightened up. "It seems the options are few as to where I may go. Perhaps the Shire? I hear they may need healers there," I said sardonically. "The Hobbits are certainly sweet folk, but I am sure even they have their limits as to impropriety. That leaves Bree, which I would never consider if it were the last place on Middle Earth. My father calls it—I think maybe I should not tell you exactly what he calls it. No, I think Bree is out as well."

It was then that Faramir noticed that he was holding a skull. He peered at it closely, then turned and grimaced at me. He gingerly placed it back on the shelf from where he'd retrieved it. He shook his head slightly and smiled.

"My father called Bree the 'Armpit of the World' so I believe perhaps your father might have named it something akin to that."

I laughed quietly for a moment. "Yes, he called it something like that—using a different part of one's anatomy."

He walked back to stand before my desk and said, "I am glad you can still be somewhat lighthearted. It is good to see you smile."

"It is either that or cry, Faramir," I answered, "and I have done enough crying over this to take up three lifetimes."

Faramir again sat down. "I have been of no help at all, but let's be realistic. There aren't a many options where this is concerned."

I nodded my head, agreeing. "You are right, Faramir. I knew the answers to most of these issues already. But you have helped; believe that. Just being able to confide in someone has meant the world to me."

"Which brings us back to the inevitable," Faramir said. "You must tell Aragorn. You cannot wait any longer."

"In other circumstances," I began, "I might have told him already, but anything can happen during the first few months of carrying a child. I did not want to say anything prematurely, and then have something go wrong and have alarmed him for no reason."

I looked at Faramir, and while his expression seemed to be one of believing what I had just told him, I knew that while what I said was true, I was not being honest with either of us. "I have also been overwhelmed with sadness and fear. I will lose my position in the Houses of Healing, which should not be foremost in my mind, but it is. I've worked very hard—" My voice trailed off. I wished not to think of this right now, much less voice it. It made me too sad.

"I also fear what he will say—what he might want me to do. I truthfully do not know him." My face reddened when I said that, but it was the truth. I could not deny it. "I wish not to burden you with details you truly do not want to know, but it was only one night—the first night that I met him. I've not seen him since that miserable banquet."

"I understand all your fears and burdens," Faramir said. "They all have merit. But I do know Aragorn somewhat better than you do, and I can tell you without any doubt in my mind that he is honorable and will not have any wicked intentions toward you or the child. Do remember—it is his, also. He may surprise you and be happy with this news. After he gets over the initial shock of it."

"Thank you for helping me with this, Faramir. It is comforting to have a strong shoulder to lean on. And I truly do thank you for your concern and for being such a good friend. You could have been judgmental and unforgiving. You could have turned your back on me and ended our friendship. But you haven't. You have shown you are a true friend and I deeply appreciate all you are doing."

"How could I end our friendship?" he asked, with a devilish smile. "Who would then vex and irritate me?" I laughed, remembering all the times I had teased him during his recovery in the Houses of Healing.

I got back to the subject at hand. "I do not know how I will ever have the courage to tell him. I am mortified that I have put him in this position and it will be very hard to face him when I tell him."

Faramir let a look of irritation cross his face. "Maeren, let us remember that Aragorn was present when this child was conceived. You have no reason to feel mortified about anything. He could have thought about the repercussions, just as well as you could have. You are not more guilty in this than he is."

I smiled at Faramir. "Thank you for reminding me. Even though I have for many years longed for women to be given the same consideration as men, I seem to fall into the trap of prejudice myself, don't I?"

"Given the circumstances, I believe you will be forgiven," he said. "Now, getting back to the subject of telling Aragorn. I want to set up an audience between you and the King as soon as possible. When would be a good time?"

"I will let you know when I am ready," I said.

I knew this was the right way to handle things. With Faramir's help, I was finally beginning to face reality. My time here in Minas Tirith was growing short and my dream of being a respected Warden was shattered. I would not be here to pursue it. I was going elsewhere, of that I was sure. I still had to think on it some more. Figure out the best way to tell a King that he would be a father to a bastard child.

"Try not to take too long," he said. "But it is your decision."

He looked at me with that 'pity' look again—which in reality was sympathy, I suppose.

"Thank you, Faramir," I said. "I will try to be quick in my thinking."

"Try not to worry, Maeren. I know 'tis easier said than done, but do try." He stood and turned to leave. As if it was an afterthought, he came around the desk to meet me as I rose from my chair and gave me a hug. It felt so good to have someone to confide in at last. And someone who would not let me put this off any longer. It was time to move forward, even though advancing meant the Valar knew what would happen to us all.

And speaking of the Valar_—Help?_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

A week later Aragorn and his Lady Arwen were wed in a magnificent ceremony, with the bride's complete Elven family and various and sundry other attendants, dignitaries and friends in attendance. The ceremony was held outdoors at noon, on a spacious platform lavishly decorated in the colors the bride chose—various shades of pink, mauve, and lavender. The hues blended together bringing to mind the soft colors of the sky at sunrise and sunset. The people of Gondor—Minas Tirith and other small settlements throughout the countryside—as well as Rohan—were crushed together in a massive assemblage. All were gathered in the streets, hanging out of windows, and crowded in doorways and on balconies. Anywhere there was enough space for a body to fit, there was a person standing, sitting, or being held there. The ceremony was a traditional rite of Gondor's Royalty. However there was much of what I assumed must be traditional Elven vows included. The whole affair was a thing to be remembered and told of for generations.

But contrary to my good intentions, I still had not told the King of my news. True to Faramir's word, he did not badger me about it. I truthfully had not meant to wait until after his marriage. In fact I didn't even dwell on that at all. I was too caught up in my own misery, being sick all the time and sick with worry. I had probably made things worse with my delay.

But every time I thought of Aragorn's face when I told him this worst possible news, my blood ran cold. I am not usually one given to timidity, but then, I am not usually what one could consider a consort to a King, either.

The day after the Royal wedding, I decided I was ready for the inevitable meeting. I went by Faramir's office and asked him to set up the audience whenever he might. I received a summons to court just three days later. I lost my lunch again, but it was mostly due to nerves this time.

I decided that the best course of action was to go as who I was: Maeren of Rohan, the Warden of the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. No putting on fancy clothes and shoes, even if I had any, or any coin to go and purchase some. I gave no special attention to my hair or face. I got myself ready and arrived fifteen minutes before the appointed time. And whom should I meet in the hallway outside the King's court? My truest friend, Faramir, Son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor.

I actually felt as if I might faint. I must have looked that way also, because Faramir quickly grabbed my elbow and guided me to a beautifully carved ebony bench in the hallway. "Maeren, you will be fine. Try to stay calm."

I took a deep breath. "I would have to actually _be_ calm in order to _stay_ calm, you know." I seemed to be having trouble taking other than short, gasping breaths.

He chuckled. "Well, I am glad to see you still have your sense of humor."

"I only wish that I would have had _sense_ enough to stay indoors that night," I retorted.

Faramir's hand went up to cover his mouth to stifle his laugh. "Do not make me look a fool out here, laughing it up just outside the King's court! Besides, if you were speaking of the night which makes this audience necessary, that was a most irreverent comment, lady!"

"Considering the circumstances," I replied, "it is questionable whether I am a lady or not and I suppose that would qualify me as irreverent, as well."

Just as Faramir was about to answer me, the door to the King's court opened and his page beckoned me forward. I stood, smoothed my dress and looked at Faramir. He smiled and nodded. I straightened my shoulders and walked forward.

_Thanks be for long skirts. They cover one's quaking knees._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Aragorn looked resplendent in his robes. Too resplendent. I swayed on my feet. I never truly fainted, but my legs would no longer support me. I have never seen anyone move that fast before. He was at my side catching me before I actually hit the floor. He gently eased me down to the polished marble, going down on one knee to steady me where I sat. He took my face in his hands. "Maeren, what is wrong? Are you still unwell?"

I vaguely wondered at why he would think me still unwell, then remembered the retching incident at the banquet a week or so ago. I closed my eyes, willing the bile in my stomach to quit its roiling and the room to stop spinning. I finally felt strong enough to speak. "Aragorn—I mean Your Highness—would you please help me to a chair?"

He shook his head. "I hope we know each other well enough that you do not have to use such titles with me." He helped me to stand and we walked slowly to a bench with velvet cushions on which to sit. After we were both settled on the bench he said, "Now, what do you wish to discuss this afternoon?"

I almost started crying again. I closed my eyes, willing the tears—no demanding them—to stay right where they were. There were to be no tears on my face during the confession I was about to make.

In a quiet and shaky voice I said, "I hardly know where to start." _Valar, I hate it when my voice quavers like a scared child's._

He smiled at me again. "Well, how about starting at the beginning?"

I smiled back, but I am afraid it was more a grimace than a smile. He flicked at a bit of dust on his royal robe. I supposed he had dirtied it whilst keeping me from cracking my head on the marble floor during my swoon.

I swallowed_. _

"Aragorn, remember when last we met? I mean, before the banquet?"

"In the Houses of Healing, before the final battle, you mean?" he asked.

_Oh, I had forgotten about that._

"No," I said, "It was a few evenings before that, if you recall _that_ time."

He looked down at his robe again, this time flicking at imaginary dust. "Yes," he said quietly, with a smile. He looked at me and said, "I remember a friend helping me find comfort when I feared there was no comfort to be found."

"Yes," I said. "That is when I meant." I hesitated.

"Go on, I'm listening," he said.

Again I closed my eyes, trying in vain to gather any shred of courage I may have in my body. "Aragorn— " I stammered. "I— We— I mean— It seems that I— "

He looked concerned and leaned toward me, taking my cold hands into his warm ones. "It is all right. Whatever it is, you can tell me. In fact, I want you to spill whatever it is right now. Your hesitation is alarming me."

I looked up at him, sure that my large eyes were made even larger with fear. I started to speak, "I am—

I could see a flash of understanding in his eyes. "—With child," he finished for me. He knew. He had guessed. I had not even had to say it; he could read it in my fear and hesitation. This time, it was he who closed his eyes.

I started blurting out all that had been going through my mind ever since I knew of my condition. "I am sorry, Aragorn. I did not think whilst I was— while we were— Never did I, in a million years, think this would happen. You would have thought that being a mother and a healer I would naturally have thought about this, but I did not, and I am sorry, and I— "

He finally put his fingers to my babbling lips. "Do not apologize, Maeren. 'Tis not your fault. We were both there, remember?" He was actually smiling. _How could he smile at this news?_

I put a voice to my thoughts. "How can you be smiling? I just told you something that will undoubtedly cause you untold difficulty."

"I smile because of your chattering and the look on your face," he said sweetly. He raised one eyebrow. "Without a doubt this will be upsetting news, not only to my wife, but to my advisers."

I opened my mouth to protest his telling anyone besides Lady Arwen, but he silenced me with an upraised hand. "I must tell those whose job it is to advise me." _How was it he could seemingly read my mind? _"Do not worry; I will forbid them to interrogate you about our—interlude. And you will be protected from any slight by them."

He stood and began pacing. I sagged in my seat. I felt as if a huge weight had been taken off my shoulders, and had then been replaced with another weight, though it was not so heavy as the one before.

I began with the tears again, thinking of the beautiful Lady Arwen, and the hurt she would feel when Aragorn told her of his betrayal. It now dawned on me how selfish and thoughtless I had been to wait so long in disclosing my secret. She was now married to the man—she had little choice in accepting the matter. _How could I have been so insensitive?_

I was ashamed for being a part of hurting her this way. I had only met her once, during the banquet that I had attended. Her grace and beauty are beyond words. I could not fathom how she would take the news, how she could feel anything but anger and hurt and betrayal.

Would she forgive Aragorn? She must. She had to. If there was one thing I wanted more than anything else in this whole mess, it was for the Queen to be understanding. Not for me. I did not matter in the scheme of their of their marriage. Her being accepting of Aragorn was important to me. He truly did not mean to hurt her—as I had not meant to.

It seemed as if Aragorn suddenly remembered that I was present. He walked slowly back to me and sat down next to me again. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, arms on his thighs, his joined hands dangling between his knees. He turned his head to look at me and said, "Have you any thoughts as to how you would like to proceed?"

I did not even bother to wipe the tears from my face—it was useless. Others would follow and my dabbing at them would be in vain. I looked down at my hands in my lap. "I think I should leave that up to you and the Queen," I said.

"I have no trouble accepting the fact that Minas Tirith will not be my home for much longer. However, I wish not to return to Edoras at this time, for obvious reasons. I have no husband, but carry a child. I will not bring shame to my father. He deserves better than that." I then looked Aragorn in the eye and added, "As long as the decision does not involve harming the child, I will be most cooperative in however you wish to handle this."

His reply was quick and indignant. "Never would either Arwen or I allow anything harmful to befall the child. Arwen will be hurt—angry even, without doubt. But neither she nor I would ever wish that we could conveniently rid ourselves of the problem."

I was even quicker to reply—defensively. "I never meant to slight you, Aragorn! I was simply being realistic. And it is reality that in some kingdoms, bastard children of the Sovereign never live to see the light of day. And I wanted it to be clear that _that_ is not an option."

"I am sorry, Maeren," he said quietly. "I meant not to slight you, either. I am not like the Sovereigns of which you speak. And do not call the child a bastard. He will have a name and I shall claim him as my own. Have no fear of that!"

"I suppose," I said with slight sarcasm, "that before you make any rash statements, you must see how your advisers react to this news. They may have a say as to how visible—or invisible—the child will be." I dropped my gaze to my hands in my lap.

He thought about that for a moment. "As much as I hate to admit it, you have a point. I may be King, but in a few instances I am so heavily advised it seems that I have no say in some matters. But I do feel strongly that my son or daughter will not live in secrecy or shame." He paused a moment, to collect his thoughts. "I will go directly and tell Arwen of this. We will proceed after she and I have had a chance to discuss it. As soon as she has had time to absorb this news, I will send for you again and we will all sit down and discuss the possible solutions to this."

I felt his fingers on my face as he prodded me to look at him. "And Maeren, it is I who am sorry for having this befall you. I do not know you well, but from our conversation in the garden, I know you have had much heartache in your life. You do not deserve any more."

He helped me up from the bench, holding my elbow as I gained my feet. For a moment he looked into my eyes. I saw concern, pain and perhaps a little trepidation in his. I know not what he saw in mine.

I turned from him and started down the aisle toward the double doors that would see me out. Just before I reached them I turned back to him and said, "When you speak to the Queen, please tell her I am sorry for hurting her. I know it seems a shallow statement, but I mean it sincerely. Hurting her is my deepest regret. She is truly innocent and she will be the one most hurt. It is not fair to her. It just is not fair."

And with that, I pushed the doors open and walked from the court, tears blinding me as I left the King. I walked right into the waiting arms of Faramir and was thankful we were alone in the hallway. He held me to him and walked me to his office, where he sat me down and plied me with cool water and a damp cloth across my eyes.

It seems there is at least something I can count on in this life of mine. _Or I should say someone?_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_


	11. Faith and Forgiveness

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I was so shaken by my confession to Aragorn that Faramir took me straight from his office to my home and put me to bed. I could not have managed it on my own had my life depended on it. As he pulled the quilt over my fully clad body, sans my shoes, he sat on the bed at my side and took one of my hands in his. He kissed it and laid it within his hands upon his knee. Then he gave me that look of 'pity' again, which he swears is only a sympathetic look, and said, "There now. Feeling any better?"

"Faramir," I said, "you should be watching after your reputation." My breathing was tending to hitch, due to all the weeping I had been doing. Swallowing, I tried to strengthen my voice. "Walking with me clinging to you through the halls of the citadel and through the streets of Minas Tirith is bound to make gossip fly furiously."

"I care nothing about it," he said with a smile.

"Well, you should! What will Eowyn think?" I asked.

"She already knows," he said, but paused when I interrupted without any words, fear showing clearly on my face. He continued, ignoring my startled expression, "that I have business with the Houses of Healing. I told her that I had been neglectful in my duty toward the wards, and she well understands that I must spend time with you to get things here back in order."

I started crying silently again. "Not only do I monopolize your time, I am now causing you to be dishonest with your betrothed." My nose was so stuffy, I could hardly breathe through it, and I now had hiccups, making it much harder to speak and be understood. "I am worse than a common harlot where the dignitaries of this city are concerned."

Faramir attempted to straighten a smile that threatened to break across his lips, and then he tried to look stern. "What am I going to do with you and your irreverent remarks, my lady?

He chuckled. Letting go of my hand and rising from the bed, he said, "I must get going for now. I will check in on you as I leave my office for the day." I started to protest, but he continued, talking over me, "And I do not want to find you in the wards! Is that clear? I am going to speak to Ioreth on my way out, and will tell her you are not to be disturbed because you feel unwell."

I sighed and said, "I understand, my lord. Anything else, my lord?"

He laughed then. "No, nothing else. Just this—stay in that bed, do not get up for any reason and sleep. You need sleep, badly."

He patted my shoulder and just before he left the room, he turned back to me once more and said, "I still cannot be unhappy about the child, Maeren. After all the strife which beset Middle Earth for so long, welcoming a new life into the world is such a miracle." And then he was gone. I snuggled down in my bed, and closed my eyes. Sleep, blissful sleep. Sounds wonderful—

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I awoke a few hours later, but the warmth and coziness of the bed made it impossible for me to rise. I began to think about having another baby. Faramir did have a point. New life was to be welcomed, especially after the heartache Middle Earth had endured for so long. All this time the only thought I had given to the child was of how it would affect our lives negatively. I had not yet thought about being a mother again.

I smiled to myself as I daydreamed of tiny fingers and toes; a baby's skin that was soft as rose petals—and smelled as sweet to its mother—most of the time. The first little tooth that emerges from a poor swollen gum. That first real belly laugh—there is nothing like that in this world. The struggle to rise onto two chubby legs to take that first tottering step.

Yes, once I allowed myself to stop the worry for a while, the thought of another child was wonderful. Another child. Such a gift. Would it be a boy or a girl? It would be nice to have another boy. I loved my Tristin with all my heart and I knew that this child would never be a replacement for him. I had so enjoyed mothering a boy. But if it was indeed a girl, I am sure that would be fulfilling also. Whatever the gender of the child, I would cherish the opportunity to be a mother again—even under these circumstances.

I was brought back to the reality of my room when a gentle knock sounded at my door. "Who is it?" I called.

When Faramir answered, I called back to him, bidding him to enter.

He came into the room, frowning at my groaning doorknob. He gave it an extended jiggle. "Must need some oil."

I smiled, feeling lighter in mood than I had in weeks, and much more rested than I had earlier today. "That is another thing on my list of 'things to do' which has been shoved aside lately for larger concerns," I said. "I followed your orders to the letter. I did not budge from this bed once and I did indeed sleep—soundly."

Pushing the quilt aside, I rose from the bed and put on my shoes. I noticed Faramir was looking at me—apprehensively. I licked my lips, trying to swallow some of the impending doom I felt was about to descend upon me.

"The King and Queen have requested my presence, have they not?" I asked quietly. I am sure I must have sounded scared—I was.

He raised his eyebrows. "I am afraid so. They wish you to join them for their evening meal tonight."

"For their evening meal?" I practically screamed. "How could any of us possibly think of eating with what will be discussed?"

"Do not kill the messenger for delivering the message," he scolded me quietly. "I only tell you what I was instructed to tell you."

I had been much louder than I had planned to be. And the words had been aimed at Faramir. He was being so good to me and this is how I repay him? "I am sorry, Faramir. I meant not to take it out on you. I just do not think I will be able to face the Queen tonight."

"You will have to face her sooner or later, Maeren," he said seriously. "It may as well be sooner, do you not think so? You have spent too much time as it is worrying about this."

"Yes, it may as well be sooner," I agreed. I wandered over to my washstand and filled a glass with water. I turned around and held the glass aloft, in silent invitation for Faramir to join me in a drink, but he declined with a shake of his head. I turned back toward the mirror and took a sip from the glass. I studied the Steward's reflection for a moment and thought about all he had done for me. I turned around to face him again, deciding that he had been too good a friend to me to have to endure my shouting at him.

"Faramir, I wish for you to go home, see your wonderful bride-to-be, and think not about me or this problem any more tonight. You have been very good to me and I feel as though I may be taking your friendship for granted. I wish not to do that." I went to stand in front of him.

"I will be glad to escort you to the citadel this evening, if you would wish it," he said.

"I do not wish it, Faramir. I wish for you to have a pleasant evening away from all of this. Starting right now." I began ushering him toward the door.

"All right," he said, laughing. "I will honor your wishes now, as you honored my wishes this afternoon."

"Your _wishes_, my lord?" I asked, skeptically. "They sounded decidedly like orders to me."

He laughed. "I suppose they were Maeren and I am supremely happy that you did follow them."

He turned to leave, but stopped and faced me again. "I wish I could bolster you for what you must face tonight, but there is nothing I can really do to accomplish that. So I will give you my best wish that things go well. I will not even try to guess what the Queen's reaction may be. I honestly do not know." He bent and kissed my cheek, gazing at me for a moment. He smiled at me, then left. I shut the door and leaned against it. I decided I should get dressed and go face the Queen's wrath.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I again dressed as I normally would. I almost felt as if I should be dressed in mourning, so my regular clothes seemed at least an improvement on that. I checked my reflection in the mirror and shook my head at my paleness, and what would most assuredly be seen as an expression of stark terror on my face.

I should have been expecting the knock upon the door, but I was not. The caller identified himself as my escort to the royal quarters, so I opened the door and stepped out, taking the young man's arm. We walked silently to the citadel, he politely opening doors and holding my elbow as we ascended or descended steps. Much too soon we arrived at the door to the King's personal quarters. My escort rapped lightly and as the door opened I was immediately handed off to another servant of the King. He showed me into the large drawing room, where the King stood, and the Queen sat, looking out a window into the darkness.

My presence was announced. Neither of them moved. I was having difficulty discerning if I was this nervous at the banquet last week, but decided the contest would be a draw. I was literally shaking where I stood.

Just when I was beginning to feel as if I were intruding, Arwen rose and came toward me. She extended her hand, inviting me further into the room. She had no expression on her face, but her eyes had redness to them that I suspected had been caused by tears. I felt so awkward. Was I expected to speak or would one of them begin the conversation?

The decision was taken from me when Aragorn turned around and said, "Welcome, Maeren. I thank you for attending us on such short notice."

I nodded my head. I could not have spoken—my tongue was clinging to the roof of my mouth, making speech impossible. Again, Arwen took the initiative, directing me to a chair. She then went to a sideboard, poured a glass of what looked like water and handed it to me. She said, "I am regretful that our second meeting should be under circumstances such as these. I want you to feel at ease. We must be civil and relaxed if we are to make progress in discussing this problem with the dignity it deserves."

I sipped the liquid, which I realized was not water, but some other beverage. I did not think it appropriate to inquire as to what it may be. I suppose I should be grateful that it did not seem to be poison.

Aragorn joined the Queen and me, they taking seats opposite mine. Again, the awkward silence. Finally Aragorn said, "I spoke to Arwen this afternoon about your condition—and my part in it—and we have discussed possible solutions to our problem. It is obvious that to preserve your honor, you must leave Minas Tirith. The question of where you should go is yet to be decided. Have you any preference as to where you would wish to live during this time?"

"The only place I am familiar with besides Minas Tirith is Edoras, and I do not wish to return there as I told you this afternoon," I said quietly. "If you and the Queen would be so gracious as to put forth suggestions to me, I would be most grateful."

Aragorn and Arwen exchanged looks, then Aragorn stood. "Arwen and I have discussed alternatives for you to think over. Arwen has family in both of the Elven sanctuaries of Imladris and Lothlorien. You remember meeting her father and brothers and grandparents at the banquet a week or so ago, do you not?" At my nod of affirmation, he continued, "Her father and brothers live in Imladris and her grandparents rule over the Golden Wood of Lothlorien. They are both beautiful, serene places where you would be well-taken care of and the child would be given the utmost consideration."

I squirmed in my seat. These suggestions were all well and good, but live with the Queen's family? It sounded most inappropriate.

"Not to question your judgment, but do you really believe I would be welcomed in either place, given my—relationship with you?"

Arwen spoke up then. "Of course we have not approached either my father or my grandparents with this request. We wished to see what you thought of the notion first. However, I am sure if it is my wish that you be received into either sanctuary, you would be most welcomed."

I closed my eyes, wondering just what exactly I should say. _'Are you out of your minds?' seemed decidedly out of the question_. I nodded then, and said, resignedly, "If it is your wish that I do this, then I am very amenable to it. I have no better ideas, to be sure, unless you would lock me in the White Tower and bring me food and books."

Arwen smiled and her eyebrows rose. They both chuckled at that. I was hugely surprised. I saw nothing funny about this whole affair. I suppose I must have indeed looked offended. Arwen then said, "Please forgive us our laughter. It is just that Estel was telling me earlier today that you have a wonderful sense of humor and you have just exhibited it to me in a most delightful fashion."

I do not know what exactly I expected the Queen's demeanor to be, but this was certainly not what I had in mind. I expected coldness and pure venom from her. I believe that would be my reaction, were the situation reversed.

I vaguely wondered who this Estel character was. I had never met anyone by that name. For them to be assuring the Queen that I had this particular attribute—and behind my back—seemed quite rude, in my opinion.

At my confused look, Arwen added, "Oh, Maeren, I am sorry. Aragorn was raised in Imladris by my father and the Elven name given him is Estel."

Well, that explained who Estel was. However, it did not explain exactly how their conversation had turned from, 'darling, I have been unfaithful to you' to 'the woman with whom I had a tryst has a delightful sense of humor.' I certainly would not ask how that little piece of information had come to be discussed. I truly did not want to know.

My mind finally got past this inanity and suddenly took hold of the fact that this couple had lived in the same household as children. I must have gone even paler than I was before and they both gave me concerned looks. My curiosity was greater than my sense, it seems, for I finally asked, although I know not where I found the audacity to do so, "You grew up together as brother and sister and are now married?"

Arwen laughed again. Quite literally, I had not meant for anything I had said thus far to be taken in jest.

Aragorn explained, "That is not how it occurred. You see Arwen is much older than I am. She grew up long before I or my distant ancestors were even thought of." I am sure my eyes grew even wider. Arwen laughed again.

"Surely you meant to say that you are much _her _senior, and it was you who grew up first in Imladris."

"No I spoke aright the first time," Aragorn said. "Arwen has seen untold years pass. She is an Elf."

He said that as if it would explain everything to me. But I had news for him—it most certainly explained nothing. But I was not of a mind for any lessons from him tonight, so I decided to remain silent.

Aragorn smiled, seemingly stifling a laugh, and hastened to explain more. "Elves are immortal—they do not die natural deaths as we do. As I was growing up in Imladris, Arwen was living in Lothlorien with her grandparents. We did not even meet until I was into adulthood."

I had gotten a lesson, whether I'd wanted it or not and I appeared to be grossly undereducated when it came to Elves. "I am sorry, my lady," I said in earnest to the Queen. "I meant not to offend you in any way. Please pardon my ignorance."

She just smiled that beautiful smile of hers and said, "You did not offend me! Quite the contrary. You have given me a reason to smile and Valar knows I have needed one today! It is I who should apologize for seeming to laugh at you. I am sorry for that, but the expressions on your face have been priceless."

"You have no reason to apologize to me for anything, given the circumstances," I replied. "I am ashamed for asking such personal questions of you in the first place."

"Think nothing of it, Maeren," Arwen replied. _She was being so sweet to me. Did she perhaps have a dagger hidden somewhere on her person?_

Arwen rose then and helped me up from my chair._ I felt no cold steel against my ribs. _

"Let us repair to the dining room and have our meal," she said. "I was afraid none of us would feel much appetite, but I find that I am feeling much better about this whole turn of events."

The table was so long, I believe whoever would be placed at either end would have to send messages by royal courier to each other instead of conversing in the normal way. Thankfully, the places had been set together at one end. Aragorn seated Arwen and me opposite each other. He then took the seat at the head of the table. From somewhere, servants began to wait on us, bringing covered platters and carafes of wine, and adding soups and removing plates. It was a lavish repast, and, I admit, I ate as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. Nervousness often has that effect on me. I either could not eat at all or I could not get enough. I just hoped that what I had eaten would decide to be cooperative and remain in my stomach, at least until I returned home. 

We had all finished the meal and were enjoying tea at the cleared table. We had lapsed again into silence. I bowed my head, looking at my hands in my lap, and said, "My lady, I most appreciate your kindness to me. I do not deserve it to be sure, but I do welcome it and I thank you."

She smiled at me again. "I will not deny the fact that when Estel told me the news this afternoon, I was most angry. However, after the initial shock was overcome, I remembered something my father always told me. 'When a situation is a fact of life, and you are helpless to change it, what good does it do anyone to be angry and resentful over it? What is done is done. You must move forward.' I believe that to be good advice, do you not think so?"

"Yes, it is very good advice, but it is not always an easy thing to do. You seem to do it quite well," I said.

"I have had much time—and occasion—to if not perfect the taking of this advice, then at least the acceptance that it is true."

I do not always use prudence when my curiosity is aroused, and it certainly was at this point. I needed to know how could she endure my company at all. "I am sorry. I cannot understand how you can bear to look at me, much less be kind to me, after what I have done to you."

"Maeren, think you that I have lived these three thousand years in a bubble?" she asked quietly. "I have seen similar situations to the one in which you and Estel found yourselves on the night the child was conceived. I could not very well condemn someone for reacting to grave events in a way that I, myself, might have reacted, can I? Estel was about to undertake what all thought might be his last and final mission—I'm sure he tried to keep his spirits up, but let us face facts—the Black Gates are truly daunting. His confession to me, about that night, was both heartfelt and sorrowful. And, though we were betrothed, we had not yet wed. I am certain in my heart that had we been, Estel would never have shared his body with another. I have faith in him."

I was speechless. I cast a glance at Aragorn and his expression was laughable—somewhere between relief and mortification. This whole idea of immortality addled me in the first place. To think that a beautiful, refined being such as Arwen had lived for almost three thousand years, and had the same base instincts as a common Human like me, was unbelievable. I tried to hide my shock.

"You are a very gracious person, nonetheless," I said. "If there is ever anything I may do for you—anything at all—please do not hesitate to tell me. I quite deserve your wrath and if you feel the need to visit it upon me, I will welcome it."

"In light of what I said before, do not think for one minute that I did not give my husband quite a tongue lashing over this matter. This news was very hurtful, especially since I knew nothing of it until _after we were wed_." She gave Aragorn a scornful look.

I was quick to come to his defense. "I am afraid he waited, not out of fear of your reaction, but out of ignorance. I did not make my condition known to him until this afternoon. 'Tis completely my fault. I selfishly did not think of how this affected anyone but me. Again, I ask forgiveness." I looked at Aragorn, and his return glance was one of thanks.

"This is perhaps the one thing that gives me pause," she said. "I know not how it feels to know a baby is on the way. But if I knew it was indeed a fact, and I was all alone with no one to help me through it all, I cannot say I would not have done likewise. And I know not how I would have reacted had I known of this before we exchanged vows. I know I would have had the same emotions that I did this afternoon. Whether it would have caused me to halt the rites, I really cannot say. However, it is all water beneath the bridge now. We will do as my father advises. Continue on from this point."

We rose from the table and I was ushered toward the door. Before calling for someone to escort me back to my home, Arwen and Aragorn both stopped to stand beside me. Aragorn spoke first. "We will discuss this with Arwen's family tonight and ask about your being secluded in either Lothlorien or Imladris throughout your confinement. They leave for their respective homes on the morrow, so we cannot wait to discuss this with them. Do you agree with this?"

I had completely forgotten the presence of the other Elves of Arwen's family in Minas Tirith. Of course they were still here—the wedding was only four days passed. However, the news that they would be told so soon made me very uneasy. The misconception I had been under, that they were far removed and it would take weeks for a messenger to reach them, had shielded me from the reality that I would indeed be living in one of their households, probably sooner than I had thought.

I felt completely panicked. "My lord, I could not possibly be ready for departure on the morrow. Please tell me I am not expected to go on such short notice," I said. I added so they did not think me presumptuous, "That is, supposing that the Queen's family agrees to this arrangement at all."

Arwen smiled, and said, "Oh no, Maeren. Worry not about that. If my family consents—and I have no doubt that they will—we will not expect you to leave this soon. I am sure you have many things to see to, as well as friends to whom you wish to bid farewell. We will send you by another escort, when the time comes."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "In that case, I agree. However, I must still voice my concerns of how I will be received in either place." Turning to Arwen I said, "I am scared to death of the thought of facing, let alone dwelling with, your family, after what I have done."

Arwen smiled and said, "Fear not, Maeren. When we explain the situation to them, we will make it quite clear that you are not to blame. Estel is to blame."

She kept her deadpan face, but I could see the corner of her mouth twitch. I glanced at Aragorn. His skin had a strange pallor to it. I wondered if he were about to faint. Arwen smiled again. Aragorn heaved a sigh of relief.

My escort arrived and I departed their company. They promised they would send for me again, as soon as they had a definite answer from Arwen's family.

I arrived home and kicked my shoes off, and collapsed onto one of the chairs at my table. For once in a very long time, I was actually smiling.

_The Queen is certainly an exceptional person. She seemed genuinely calm and serene about this whole situation. And her sense of humor was comparable to my own, thanks be. I wonder what is being said between Arwen and Aragorn and her family, now that I am gone? Oh to be a fly on the wall..._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	12. Effrontery and Elf Lords

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The following morning, I rose, and promptly commenced my morning routine. I bounded out of bed having barely opened my eyes and retched in the chamber pot on top of the washstand. This routine was so regular that it was second nature for me to move my stomach's best friend to the washstand the night before. I was so tired of this morning sickness, which coincidentally, occurred not only in the morning, but at noon and night as well, if it had a mind to.

I cleaned up my stomach's companion, and myself, and got some water heating for a cup of tea. That usually settled my stomach, at least for a while. As I got myself dressed, I glanced in the mirror and realized that my belly was getting just the smallest bit rounder. I thought back, counting the weeks and months since the battle on the Pelennor. It had been slightly over three months since then. It would not be long before my condition would become obvious. I finished dressing, and combed my hair, pinning it in its usual knot at the nape of my neck. I already felt as if I had worked an entire shift in the wards, and the sun was not even properly up yet. I had doubts that I would last through my morning walk. However, I knew my attitude would change if Gimli was true to form, and was waiting for me at the lamppost up the street. He always made me feel better, though I hoped it was not obvious to him that I felt poorly almost every day in the week.

I sat with my tea for a few minutes. It was not helping today. In fact, it may just come up before it is even completely down. I placed my arms on the tabletop and lay my forehead where they crossed._ I am so tired and feel so sick. _Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can endure this. Tristin had never been this bad a boy ever, much less before he was even born! This thought did not bode well for the disposition of the child I now carried. Perhaps Aragorn was a terror as a child. _Valar help me, I am getting too old for this._

Gathering every shred of energy—which was not much—I rose from my table. I went back to the washstand to see that all was right with my appearance and then left for my walk. The lamppost was just up the street and Gimli was already waiting for me. I smiled as I greeted him. "Gimli, you are always a welcome sight first thing in the morning!"

He sketched a small bow to me and fell into step by my side. "I may say the same about you, my dear. And, thank you for the compliment. You are the only person who has ever acknowledged my presence in the morning as a pleasant thing. I greatly appreciate it when someone recognizes my better qualities."

"Well, recognized they are, sir," I replied. "Some mornings I do not believe I will make it to the lamppost, until I see you there. And then all my cares are thrown to the wind, for Gimli has come to banish them from my mind!"

"Maeren, did I not know better, I would think you were sweet on me!" Gimli said, laughing.

"Oh, I am much too old for you, Gimli," I said. "And Valar knows you could do so much better than me!"

We both had a good laugh at that and continued walking. I noticed that this was the first morning in a very long time that I had not been sick with worry. I may still have sickness wrought by my condition, but I was no longer worried sick by the thought of telling Aragorn about our baby. My secret was out and plans were in the works. The plans I had made for my life were no longer an issue. I had placed myself into a much larger and daunting plan than I would have ever dreamed was possible. Add to that the number of people involved and my life was virtually not my own right now. That was a scary thought.

I shook the distress from my mind. I would live in the present. And at the present, I was enjoying a walk with a friend. Gimli and I strolled along in companionable silence for a few minutes, when curiosity got the better of me. I often let curiosity lead my tongue into things that were not necessarily my business.

"Gimli, now that the war is over, and things are getting back to normal, what will you do? Where will you go? Will you stay here in Minas Tirith, or return to your folk?"

"Bless my beard, lass!" he replied with a small laugh. "Which of those questions should I reply to first?"

"I am sorry, Gimli," I said ruefully. "It is really none of my business, I was just curious, that is all."

"Well, Maeren," Gimli said, "I mind not answering any of those questions. I was just surprised by the number of them!" We reached the end of the path, crossed the street as we usually did, and proceeded up the other side. "I suppose I will be forced to travel with Legolas for a while. During a weak moment, I promised to go explore Fangorn Forest with him."

The look on Gimli's face, and the way he spat out the words _Fangorn Forest_, was proof that he really was not looking forward to this particular trip. "Oh Gimli," I said in mock horror. "How could you do such a thing?" I knew not where this Fangorn Forest was, but from the look on my friend's face, it was somewhere he deemed to be dreadful.

He laughed and said, "As I mentioned, it was a weak moment. However, I have exacted my revenge!" At this statement, his index finger was raised in the air in victory. "Legolas made a like promise, only he will be visiting Aglarond with me!"

"The Glittering Caves—at Helm's Deep?" I asked excitedly. "I have heard of them all my life, but have never had the opportunity to visit them. I would dearly love to see them one day!"

"I would invite you to join us, dear lady," Gimli said sheepishly, "but I know not if you could be spared at the Houses of Healing." I could tell he was not giving his true reason for his lack of an invitation, but it did not matter anyway.

"Have no care about that, my friend," I said. "I would not wish to join you at any rate."

He stopped in mid step, and I walked a few paces ahead before I noticed I had left him behind. When I turned and rejoined him, he said, "And why, may I ask, would you not wish to join me?"

_Oh dear, I think I have offended him!_

"Tis nothing against you, dear Gimli," I hastened to assure him. "I would go with you to the ends of Middle Earth, as you well know!"

"Why then would you not go?" he asked. He still looked a bit miffed.

"I hesitate to tell you, Gimli," I started. "He is your friend—though Eru knows why—"

"It is because of the Elf?" he interrupted to ask me, obviously very surprised.

I was quick to answer, not wanting him to think ill of me. "I have nothing against Elves, Gimli, if that is what you are thinking. It is this particular Elf I have a problem with."

I could tell he was having difficulty keeping a straight face, but this confused me. We began to walk once again.

"Maeren, are you telling me that you dislike Legolas?" Gimli asked incredulously.

"Perhaps dislike is too strong a word," I said. "It is more annoyance, I would say."

Shaking his head with an amused grin on his face, he said, "Legolas will never believe me when I tell him of this!"

This time, it was I who stopped dead in her tracks and Gimli who left me behind. As he rejoined me, I said desperately, "Gimli, do not tell him I said such a thing!"

"And why not, Maeren?" Gimli said, disappointment starting to cloud his smile. "It is so seldom I get the chance to rankle the Elf sufficiently. It would be a special favor you would be granting me. Legolas needs to be reminded from time to time that he is not the only male in Middle Earth! This would give me the perfect ammunition with which to do so. Oh please, Maeren, do not swear me to silence in this!"

I had a momentary flash of memory. I remembered a similar good-natured argument, which had occurred between Aragorn and me. Gimli looked so disheartened I knew not what to say. I began walking again as I thought of my reply. I stole a glace at my friend, a wicked smile beginning to creep across my lips. _Not only would Gimli be able to rankle the Elf, I would also, in a round about way._

"Only to you would I allow permission for such a statement of mine to be told to the one I was speaking about," I said, trying to look sincere. "I think so much of you, that I cannot find it in my heart to deny you anything." For dramatic effect, I waited a few seconds to add, "Very well, I give you my permission to tell Legolas what I think of him."

He looked at me excitedly and said, "Yes! You are a princess, as I always knew you were!"

"But Gimli," I was careful to add, "I most assuredly do not wish to be present when you tell him the foul news. Do I have your solemn oath in this?" I also remembered Aragorn's warning, when he told me of Legolas' deadliness.

"You do, my dear," he said. "You most assuredly do."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I arrived at the wards after my walk, only to find a courier from the King awaiting me. My first thought was to duck and hide behind a cot. But as Faramir had told me yesterday, it was better to face that which I feared, than to let it fester and cause me worry for days.

I opened the message and glanced at the contents. Thanks be, Gimli had gone on ahead to find his Elf friend. I am sure I was pale and beginning to shake. The King and Queen were awaiting me in their personal chambers, and I was definitely not looking forward to hearing what they wished to impart to me. Regardless of having Arwen's assurance that all would be well, I was terrified of facing any of her relatives, given the circumstances.

_I wonder if they have begun their journey home yet? _I was definitely grasping at straws.

I told the messenger that I would be at the Palace soon, but it seems he had been told in advance that it was a summons and he was to escort me there personally. I ducked my head further into the wards, looking for my _friend and ally_, Ioreth. I finally spied her down one aisle, and called to her, waving at her to come over to where I stood. She approached with a sour look about her.

She greeted me for the first time this morning with, "Yes, Mistress—what is it _now_?"

"It is simply," I said, bristling_—I was so tired of her attitude; I could throttle her—_that the King and Queen have summoned me to the Citadel. You are to take charge. Do you think you can handle that?"

She narrowed her eyes at me and answered, "I believe I can manage, Miss."

Without even bothering to bid her goodbye, I shut the door in her face and followed my escort as he led me to my doom. I wondered which Elven sanctuary I would be residing in for at least the next six months of my life. I also wondered if I would be able to withstand what would surely be a chilly reception from those who lived there.

Lord Elrond was in attendance at this little meeting today, much to my chagrin. He was standing near one of the massive windows that overlooked the city. He turned as he heard me enter the room and bid me good morning pleasantly enough. I returned his greeting in like manner. I received a smile and a nod from Arwen, who was seated in a chair opposite the one in which the King bade me to sit. All the pleasantness of this morning's walk with Gimli was for naught. I was once again sick and tired. I looked at my hands, which were folded—very tightly—in my lap. It was a moment before I realized that I had been addressed.

"I am sorry, my lord," I said hurriedly, embarrassed. "What were you saying? I am afraid I was lost in thought."

Aragorn had been speaking to me. The King—the father of the baby I carried. I still could not believe this was happening to me.

He gave me a sympathetic smile, and repeated, "Lord Elrond has graciously offered Rivendell as sanctuary to you during your confinement." I glanced at the formidable Elven Lord, but he continued to gaze out the window, seemingly oblivious to the conversation taking place not five feet from where he stood. Aragorn continued imparting his rule, it seemed to me. _My how the space of months can take a man from a bedraggled ranger to a harried monarch._ I wondered how I could ever have been involved with him at all. Not that he was unkind, for he was not. He was just all business. I know not what I expected from him, under the circumstances. I suppose were I to put a finger on what it was I wanted, it would be something a little less businesslike, and a bit more friend like. I again realized, belatedly, that I was being spoken to.

"Your Majesty," I said, "I seem to be distracted this morning. Please forgive me. What were you saying?" I noted his raised eyebrows at my use of his title.

"I was only saying," Aragorn repeated, "that when you have all your interests resolved, send word to me. I have arranged your escort to Rivendell with Legolas and Gimli."

I must have looked as I felt—stunned. He looked at me questioningly, and asked, "You have no objections to the escort I have arranged, do you?" Truth be known, I was not happy about the arrangement, but what stunned me was that now, my friend Gimli knew about me and my little problem. I had hoped that he not find out this way, but I truly had the obligation to tell the father of the child before I began imparting the news to others. He mentioned nothing during our walk this morning. I wondered what he thought of me now that he knew. He gave no indication that he felt any differently than before. I felt terrible that I had been unable to tell him myself.

"No, my lord," I lied, "I have no objections to any of the arrangements." I thought of the weeks it would take to reach Rivendell, and in whose company I would be. Gimli would be a welcome escort. It was his Elven friend I objected to. I was afraid I might enjoy Ioreth's accompaniment more, and that would be tortuous. I turned to Lord Elrond, as he approached us, and said, "My lord, I do thank you for your kindness in sharing your home with me. I will try not to be a burden to you whatsoever."

He simply dipped his head to me in acknowledgment, not even a ghost of a smile on his lips. I did not know whether to take that to mean all was well with him or not. _Valar, if I did not die from the indignity of all this, it would be miraculous._

"Well, that is that, then," Aragorn said, slapping his knees as he stood. "I must get to work." He gave Arwen, who had been very quiet this morning, a kiss on the lips and was gone.

I was left sitting there with two Elves staring at me. I could feel myself coloring. I certainly knew not what to say at this point. I could finally stand their perusal no longer, so rose to make my exit.

"Again," I said, "please accept my thanks for seeing to these arrangements. I know neither of you have any obligation to me whatsoever, so I appreciate your kindness. I should be going now."

"Maeren, if you would not mind," Arwen said quietly, "Could you stay? Perhaps have tea with me?"

"I would be honored, my lady," I replied. I wanted nothing more than to be away from this place, but if the Queen requested my attendance, I would not deny her. I meant what I said last night. If there was even the slightest thing she may request of me, and if it were in my power to do it, it would be done. Even if her intent was to rant and rail at me, I would allow her to do so. I sat down once again.

Lord Elrond surprised us both by speaking. He had been so quiet I had almost forgotten he was there. "Arwen, go make arrangements for tea for the two of you, and while you are gone, I wish to have a word with the _lady _here." His slur to my character was unmistakable. His tone brooked no argument. Even I, who knew him not at all, could recognize this.

Arwen tilted her head to one side, and said, "Father, I wish you to not—"

"Daughter!" he said with quiet anger. "It was not a request. Now go, and arrange for your refreshment." He was not bothering to conceal his ire. I was becoming frightened.

The Queen paled and looked shaken. That did nothing to boost my courage, truth be known. Arwen stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. I was left alone with what was apparently a very outraged Elf.

"Maeren, I mean no disrespect," Elrond said, after Arwen had gone, "but how and under what circumstances, did you and Estel happen be alone together to accomplish this—_deed_?"

"My lord!" I said, affronted. "If your question was not meant in disrespect, then I do not know the meaning of the word. I think it hardly appropriate for you to be asking me questions of such a personal nature."

"I am sorry, Maeren," Lord Elrond began, without any real apology, "Arwen may be grown and of age, but I am still her father. As such, I feel compelled to look after her welfare, whether others feel it is my business or not." He turned away from me, and walked toward the window overlooking the city. He turned back to me, his eyes wounding me with the daggers they threw. "You have no concept of the magnitude of Arwen's sacrifice to become Estel's wife. And he betrayed her before the wedding even took place! And you. To have the audacity to keep _this_ from her, when there was still time for her to forego their union. I find that to be inexcusable."

_Valar, how I wished not to cry. _I truly wished it. But I could tell this was one wish I most assuredly would not be granted.

"Perhaps it was inexcusable in your eyes, my lord," I said. I was surprised. Even though there were tears escaping my eyes, my voice did not quaver. "I am sorry, but I was so caught up in my own anguish, the time got away from me and the wedding came and went before I'd decided how to tell Aragorn about this."

He took a deep breath and said without kindness, "I care not for your anguish. It is the anguish of my daughter that concerns me." With his hands clasped behind him, he walked back toward me. "I expect an answer to my initial question."

I was shaking now, as well as weeping. My voice still strong, I said defiantly, "And if I do not answer, will you beat it out of me, as it looks as if you are prepared to do?" I had never been good at confrontation, so I was surprising myself with my ability to hold my own with the Elven Lord. He looked me in the eyes, but did not answer. I am not ashamed to say, it was I who looked away first. He was being inexcusably hostile. I had done nothing to deserve this sort of treatment from him. Even though I looked away, I was determined he would not think me timid.

I decided to give him the answer he sought. I had not an inkling as to why he desired to know the details, unless it was to embarrass me further. If I was to be labeled a _lady_, I may as well deserve the title.

"Aragorn and I had our _tryst_ a few days before the armies went to the Black Gate. It was just past midnight and I had been in my garden when he intruded on me. When he realized his mistake, he offered to leave. That was when I made my first mistake. I asked him to stay." I rose from my chair, standing as tall as I could, to face my tormentor at his level. My nose came about mid chest on him, but I cared not. I was very angry and hurt now, and he was going to hear exactly what he had asked me to tell him.

"Aragorn was completely bereft. One of his best friends had been killed on the Pelennor that day. In addition, he was having to face the fact that he would be leading men to the Black Gates in a few days' time, and in all probability, none of them would be returning to the city. Not only had he been on the Pelennor during the heat of the battle, he was then called upon to visit the Houses of Healing and was implored to see to the people there who were suffering from what he explained to me was the Black Breath. After hours of toiling there, he escaped, and found his way to the garden where I was in the midst of my own personal crisis. I care not what you say, Lord Elrond, but that is _my_ business—not yours. So you will not be hearing of that!"

I gathered another lung full of air, and continued. "Aragorn was weary beyond words, and sick at heart over the death of his friend—of many of his friends, I am sure. The whole of Middle Earth was seemingly poised on his shoulders. Only the Valar knew when he had last shut his eyes to sleep for more than a few minutes. He was confused, sorrowful, and discouraged. I was likewise bereft. We took comfort in each other. It was not our intent, but it happened nonetheless. I am ashamed of myself. Is that what you wish to hear, my lord?"

We were both startled by the door closing loudly. Aragorn was striding toward us, his face a thundercloud. I briefly wondered at how long he had been listening, and how much he had heard me say. He approached the two of us and stopped beside me, turning to face Lord Elrond, as I was facing him.

"Arwen told me you were in here interrogating Maeren," he said in a deadly quiet voice. "I want this to cease now. She has done nothing to you. She does not deserve your scorn. Turn that on me—it is I who deserves it."

"Go away, Estel," Elrond said dourly. "The sight of you sickens me at present."

Ignoring the Elf Lord's directive, Aragorn turned to me and said, "Maeren, in light of this development, I suppose the arrangements we have made will be abandoned. We will discuss new plans at another time. Let me have someone escort you home, where I want you to rest." He looked me directly in the eyes, as if to stress what he would say next. "Do not go into the wards. I will check up on you and you will hear directly from me if I find you have not heeded my wishes. You must take care of yourself, even if some _people_ are making that difficult for you at the moment." He looked pointedly at the Lord of Imladris.

"To tell you the truth, Aragorn," I said, "I believe I will go. But I _will_ be in the wards if you wish to speak to me. You may be the King, and you may have an interest in this baby I carry, but my life and how I choose to live it, are still very much under my control." I was completely indignant from all the ill treatment that had been visited on me, and was also very tired of being told what was, or was not, going to be. With that, I started to make my way out of the palace. Arwen was standing outside the door as I opened it.

I was flat out weeping by this time, but I hoped I could be understood. I wished very much for her not to feel badly about my departure. Despite all the hurt and anguish I had been subjected to, none of it was her fault. Nothing about this mess was of her doing, and I wanted her to know I was aware of that.

"My Lady." I began. My voice was quavering now. She looked shocked and concerned all at the same time. "Please forgive my rudeness at leaving in this way, but I find the company of your father to be intolerable. I would dearly love to have tea with you, but if you would not mind, it would be better at another time. I seem unable to control my emotions at present, and you deserve my utmost attention. Again, I am sorry. I am sorry about all of this."

The next thing I was aware of was being in my garden, sitting under the Wishing Tree. I knew not at this point if I loved or hated it here in this place. Here was where all my present heartache began. Here in what used to be my sanctuary. It seems that now, my sanctuary may be turning into a prison cell.

_Valar, please help me. I should have known—wishing accomplishes nothing._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

It wasn't long before I was intruded upon in my garden. I could not believe it when I heard someone approach. Who now knew about my secret place?

I had not long to wait to discover who was encroaching into my refuge. Of all people—the King. Just who I would not want to see again right now. _Why will he not leave me in peace?_

I did not look up at his approach. I hoped that if perhaps I ignored him, he might go away. That was not to be either.

"Maeren," Aragorn began quietly, "I am sorry about how things turned out this morning. I promised that you would not be subject to scrutiny, and it seems I was unable to keep my word. I deeply apologize for that."

"Think nothing of it, _Your Majesty_," I replied bitterly. "I apparently deserved exactly what I got. I know not why I deserved it, though. I have a feeling I was being judged by some obscure Elven law I am ignorant of. The first time I met the Lord of Imladris, he was most gracious to me. Now he accuses me of making his daughter's _sacrifice_ useless. She said nothing of a sacrifice last night, and quite frankly, unless she is a superb actress, I thought her to be taking the news quite well. She certainly did not act as if her life was ruined. Whatever her sacrifice may be, I know not. It is none of my business. But if what Lord Elrond said is true, I am even more ashamed now than I was before, and I thought that to not be possible." My voice had been growing quieter and quieter, so by the time I was finished speaking, it was little more than a whisper.

Aragorn settled himself in the grass beside me. I longed to throw myself into his arms. I very much needed someone to lean on. I had no one. Faramir's reputation could quite possibly be in ruins already because of my leaning on him, and I would not burden my friend Gimli at any rate. And those were really the only two friends I may have confided in at all. I truly had no one. I know not what brought it to mind, but I thought of my father and his favorite lesson. The same lesson I had so recently remembered when I had played the prank on the drunken soldier. _You commit the sin, you mop up after yourself as well. _I began to sob.

Aragorn made a movement as if to gather me into his arms, and even though I wished it, I knew it would be extremely unwise. "Please, do not touch me, Aragorn," I said, pulling out of his reach. "I wish for you to never touch me again." He sank back away from me. He sat with his legs crossed, and draped his forearms over his knees. He sat that way, his shoulders bent, looking down at the ground. I stole a glance at him, and at first I thought I saw tears on his face. At second glance, I saw that he simply had his eyes shut tightly, as one would shut them in a grimace of pain. I made no move of comfort, nor spoke any words of consolation. I learned a hard lesson after doing that before. I may be impulsive, but I am not insane. We would never touch each other again, in any way, if I had anything to say about it.

"I will leave Minas Tirith of my own accord, Aragorn," I said. "I promise it will be soon—I have no wish to ruin your life as well as your wife's."

At first, he made no sound. After a few moments, I heard him sigh softly. I had a feeling an argument was about to commence. He was King after all, and had probably grown used to having his own way in a very short time. At any rate, I was coming to realize that he had probably always been stubborn. I knew not what gave me this impression, for I definitely did not know him well. Just the same, something in his manner or his face, showed him to be a man who had strong opinions, and felt that he was right in whatever he was considering. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable storm to commence.

It was not long in coming. "Maeren, I cannot allow you do this," he said.

"You have no say in it, Aragorn," I replied evenly. I knew I was pushing the limits of a common lady to royalty relationship, but I sincerely did not care. I had every intention of leaving—I just had no idea where I would go.

"I am the one in possession of the baby, and since he—or she—has taken up residence in my body, I should be free to do what is best for the both of us. And I feel that the best thing will be getting away from the city, and you, and your wife, and all the complications that go along with you. Once I am gone, you need never give another thought to either of us again."

"Where will you go, Maeren?" Aragorn's voice seemed to take on a slightly desperate tone, which surprised me greatly.

"You have no need to concern yourself, Aragorn," I said. "I know not where at this point, but wherever it is, I have no intention of telling you or anyone here. I want no ties to you or your crown.

"I am sorry you feel this way, Maeren," he said. He was getting stubborn on me, I could tell. Continuing, he said, "You cannot simply leave. The child is mine as well as yours." He didn't speak for a few minutes. When he finally broke the silence, his tone had changed to one that was almost pleading. "Please do not take him—or her—away. I have no immediate family related to me by blood, Maeren. I expect to have children with Arwen, to be sure. But this baby is already precious to me, for he is of my blood. He is related to me and I to him. Please do not take him away." The fear of loss was written clearly on his face. I had been wrong. It _was_ desperation I had heard—not stubbornness. He wanted not to go against me, just because he could. He was genuinely fearful that I would take his child from him.

"Aragorn," I said wearily, "could you possibly leave me? I desperately need some time alone. I thought this would be a good place for that, but I forgot you knew of it, also. Please? Just go away." I hoped the bitterness I felt was conveyed in my words. I did not feel like being the only one in misery this day.

He let out a long sigh and climbed to his feet. He stood there for a couple of moments, then he spoke. "Maeren, please. Do nothing rash right now. Give me your word you will not leave. We need to speak about this. I am not going to _command _you to do anything, as I think you may believe of me. I am asking as your friend. And the father of your child."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I said, "Very well, Aragorn! I promise not to leave! But do not be sending a courier with a summons commanding me to come to the palace. I will come in my own time, at my own bidding. Are we clear on these terms?"

"We are clear, my lady," he replied, apparently relieved at my answer. He dipped his head to me and walked away, finally leaving me in peace in my garden.

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	13. Regrets and Redemption

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The day after my confrontation with the Elf lord, the Queen paid me a visit. I was stunned, to say the least. I was in the wards doing my usual morning activities when I heard Ioreth gasp. I looked up and there was the Queen, in all her splendor, walking down the aisle toward me. She greeted a slack-mouthed Ioreth—who dropped a hasty curtsy—and continued forward, stopping when she reached my side.

I gave a small bow to my head, to show my respect. "My Queen, it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Houses of Healing." I hoped my anger at the Queen's father was not written on my face as plainly as I feared it was.

"It is my pleasure to be here," she assured me. "Have you time to speak with me?"

"Of course," I said. "One moment, if you please, while I finish with my patient here." I looked back down to the young man in the bed, only to find he was even more slack-mouthed than Ioreth had been. I stifled a chuckle and introduced him to Lady Arwen. "My Queen, may I present to you Darren, Son of Derric of Gondor, a soldier of the guard?" I then glanced back at Darren and did likewise. "Darren, I present to you, the Queen of Gondor."

Darren went all shades of red and finally spoke. "Tis a genuine pleasure to meet you. I would bow to you, but Mistress Maeren promises to have me put in chains if I leave this bed, so I think I should not test her."

"Tis my pleasure to meet you, Darren, to be sure," the Queen said. "I am sorry for your injury. I wish for you a rapid recovery."

"Thank you, my Queen," Darren breathed. From his expression of complete awe, you could tell this would be one of those moments he would relate to his grandchildren, on every occasion he could claim their ears.

I finished securing Darren's bandage and bid him goodbye. The Queen and I then walked back the way she had come. "Ioreth, please take charge," I said over my shoulder without stopping.

Ioreth actually was something other than cold to me for once. "Yes, my lady. I will gladly take over while you are away."

I just smiled and walked on. As we reached the hallway, we had the choice of going either left and out the door into the street, or right, and to my office or room. I stopped and asked, "My lady, had you any particular destination in mind?"

"Actually, yes I do," she replied. "If you would not mind, and the Houses of Healing could spare you for a couple of hours, I would dearly love to ride out of here for awhile and have a lunch outdoors. I have horses for us to ride, if you would—or we could send for the coach if you would prefer."

I was shocked. The Queen, who I had wronged in the most grievous way—although I knew not about her at the time—was being pleasant, and was inviting me on what seemed to be a social outing.

Was she being genuine? Was she playing some sort of elaborate game with me, only to spring the trap when I least expected it? I looked into her face, and all I could see was sweet loveliness. There was no choler of rancor there. All I saw when I looked into her eyes was wisdom and serenity. I could not figure this out.

"Maeren, are you well?" she asked me.

I came out of my puzzled trance, and said, "I am sorry, Your Majesty. I must seem very slow-witted. I would be honored to accompany you. However, I have no appropriate riding clothes, only leggings and such. I would hate to be an embarrassment to you."

"Of course you would not be," she assured me. "I had intended to return to the Citadel first and dress as you plan to. Growing up with two brothers, I refused to dress differently from they when I rode, much to my mother's chagrin."

I smiled and said, "As did I. And for the same reason."

"Why do we not go gather your things and return to the Citadel to change?" she asked.

"Of course. My room is just down this way a bit." I walked ahead of her, stopping at my door. I turned the groaning knob.

She said nothing at the sound, but screwed up her face in a way I had never imagined she could.

She came in, glancing around my humble home as I gathered my things and deposited them in a small valise. I suddenly came to a screeching halt. _What was I doing? _

"My lady," I said. "I am still very surprised at your attitude toward me. It puzzles me as to why you would even speak to me, much less ask for my company in what seems to be a social outing. All I can imagine is that you have more questions you wish to ask me. Am I correct in my assumption of this, or have you some other reason for inviting me out today?"

"Forgive me," Arwen said, "but I believed I was simply being friendly. I have no ulterior motive, if that is what you mean."

I was mortified at my cheek. How could I have asked her that question? When would I ever learn to curb my curiosity? _And how do I get myself out of this one?_

I decided that honesty was something that always worked. It did not always work well, but it would be best in the long run.

"My lady," I said, "I meant no disrespect to you. Please forgive me if that is how I sounded. I am merely surprised that you would seek out my company. That is all."

"Maeren, were the circumstances different, and we had not all the entanglements we find ourselves in, I would have taken to you instantly. I sensed in you a kindred spirit the minute I looked into your eyes for the first time. We do find ourselves in a unique position. It is not uncomfortable for me to be around you. If you can say likewise, I can see no reason for us not to be cordial with one another."

I was trying to think of a suitable reply to her, when she said, "If you like, I could command you to accompany me." Her smile was sweet.

"I find your company very pleasant, when I forget the nature of our relationship," I said. "You have been making it possible for me to forget what I have done to you, and I feel undeserving of that. I feel as if I deserve your scorn and not your company at all."

"I can see you are leaving me with no choice, then," she said somberly. "I command you to not only endure my presence, but to enjoy it as well."

I could not help but laugh at that. She smiled and said, "Get you busy so we may be riding soon!" As an afterthought, she added, "Please—_please_—cease calling me 'my lady' or 'my queen' or, worse yet, 'your majesty'! My given name I now give to you, to use as you see fit."

Smiling, I nodded my understanding. I finished gathering my things and we left for our impromptu outing.

_I cannot for the life of me understand the Queen. How she can possibly endure—even invite—my company is beyond my comprehension._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

We rode a bit beyond what used to be the gates of the city, before the minions of Sauron demolished them, and found a likely spot to drop our blanket and have a bite to eat. We had skirted the battlefield. It made the Queen uncomfortable. It seemed to bother Arwen very much. When I asked her about her discomfiture, she told me that Elves had heightened senses, and the battlefield almost cried with the blood of the fallen warriors of Middle Earth. Not wishing to put a damper on our afternoon, I quickly changed the subject to something very neutral—the weather. _That is always safe, is it not?_

She had certainly brought enough food! There was cold chicken, biscuits with plenty of butter and honey to go along with them, and two kinds of fruit—apples and pears. "If I continue eating such huge meals," I said, holding my stomach, "I shall grow too big for my leggings!"

She smiled and said, "Forget not that you are eating for two."

My smile faded. How could I forget, although it would be nice to, if only for one afternoon?

She noticed that my reserve had again locked into place. "I'm sorry, Maeren. If the child is too difficult for you to speak of to me, I will desist in speaking of it. Despite the circumstances, I find a new life coming into the world very exciting! You see, the Elves are diminishing here in Middle Earth; they are leaving for the Gray Havens, crossing the sea never to return here. I was of the last of the Elves born, so babies—even children among Elves—are more than rare. They are for the most part, nonexistent."

Forgetting my unease, I let curiosity take over my mind once more. "Truly? There are no more Elven babies?" I know I must have looked aghast, but I could not help it. "How sad!"

"Yes," she agreed. "It is quite sad." Her demeanor changed to one of excited anticipation. "However, I shall have babies and welcome them with open arms!"

This puzzled me. "Why will you be different from other Elves? After I learned about your immortality, I simply surmised that you and Aragorn would live together until his death, and then you would join your family again, wherever they may be. And I knew not of Elves having no children, so, why then, will you? Oh dear, the king would need heirs— "

She smiled as she followed my train of thought on its twisted path. "That is the only sad thing for me about my marriage to Estel," she said. "You see my father is what is called by my people a Peredhil. It means that he is half-Elven. As such, he was given the choice of whether to live as a Human or to live his life as an Elf—he chose to live as an Elf. As one of his children, I, too, was given the same choice. My life was in turmoil before I made my final decision. I had many reasons to live as an Elf. I would have eventually sailed to the Gray Havens, to reunite with my mother. Yet I also had many reasons to remain here in Middle Earth. It breaks my father's heart that I chose to marry Estel and live a mortal life. He wishes desperately to go across the sea and join my mother. That means he will leave me behind. So, you see, it is a bittersweet love I have at times for Estel. I love him with all my heart, but I also love my father and mother, and I am bereft at the thought of never seeing them again. I know not when my father will finally sail, and mayhap I will see him before that time, but our parting will be bitter for us both."

I started weeping again. Arwen had a look of alarm on her face. "Maeren, what did I say to distress you so?"

"I am sorry," I gasped. "It seems that is all I ever say to you, and it is never going to be enough! What you just told me makes my transgression all the more abhorrent. To think of what you have given up to marry Aragorn, and this is what you are dealt. I am unfit to even tread the ground you walk upon."

"Maeren, do not weep over this any more," Arwen scolded gently. "I have been thinking about my relationship with Estel for the past few days, since you told us this news. Remember I told you I did not know if I would have wed him anyway? Well, I know now. I would have. This makes no difference. What he had with you was mere physical union, brought on by tragic events. I am secure in the knowledge that he loves me. That I am his only love. That is really all that matters."

Arwen reached out and lifted my chin with her fingers. "Forget not that I am an Elf. As you know, I am thousands of years old. Think you I spent all this time without lovers? I can assure you that is not the case. My looks may deceive. I am not nearly as pure as some would deem me. I was hardly virginal when I wed Estel. Grant you, I no longer shared myself with others after I met and grew to love him. I knew he was the one I wished to bond with for all time."

She gave a small shake of her head, as if not quite believing what she was about to say. Her smile was that of someone who was bewildered, but not in an unhappy way. "I have surprised myself by my reaction to this as well. I know not what calms my spirit. I suppose it was the situation in which your union occurred. I wish not to embarrass you, but Estel told me everything. That is another thing I love about him—he shares his mind with me. He told me you were grief-stricken over the death of a young soldier, and even though you needed comfort yourself, it was you who made to comfort him. He told you his woes, he wept, and you promised to watch over him while he slept. I cried when he told me that, for even though he shared himself with you, it was because of the heartbreak you were both enduring. Had I been there to give comfort to Estel myself, he would have not needed to find it elsewhere. And this may sound strange, but I love him with my soul; a tiny part of me is glad you were there for him."

I smiled at her as my tears dried. When I thought of all the facets being an Elf must include - unlimited time to think things through, having untold experience on which to base opinions and feelings - it all boggled my mind.

"Your understanding is the most wonderful of gifts, Arwen," I said. My voice was trembling, from all the crying I had done. "I have despaired over hurting you. That has been my deepest regret from the very beginning of this. I met Aragorn for the first time only a few hours before we—you know—and I knew nothing about him. That alone is a cause of much shame for me. I did not know if he was married, or betrothed, and quite frankly, I didn't even think about those things. It seems I did not think about a great many things." My gaze fell to the blanket, my shame evident. "Aragorn told you I was bereaved about a child soldier who had died in my arms. What made that more grievous to me was that my Tristin would have been about the same age as the dying child I held in my arms. As I sat there holding the young soldier, I saw my son's face instead of the one who was actually there. All the sorrow and loss I felt at Tristin's death, was brought forth from deep in my heart, and I could hardly breathe. As I sat there in the garden, all I could think of was my son and my empty arms. I was in such excruciating pain. I tell you this not as an excuse, but simply as an explanation. When Aragorn wandered into the garden, it in some way saved me. I had felt as if I were dying."

We fell into silence. Arwen took my hands in hers and continued to gaze at me, looking into my eyes. I somehow felt her presence in my heart, calming me. I knew that was impossible, but even so, just for a moment, I felt such peace. She smiled and released me.

"Maeren," she began, "I did not know you had lost a child. That alone is reason enough for you to seek comfort in a way you normally would not have. You have been in the thick of this war with the Dark One, seeing sights and tending wounds I would cringe from. You have worked in impossible conditions, with the sounds of battle ringing in your ears. You fought in this war just as any soldier of Middle Earth did. You continue fighting, tending still the worst of the wounds suffered by some of the soldiers. I will not lie to you. The knowledge of your union with Estel sometimes anguishes my mind. Of course, that is natural for any wife who finds herself in this situation. But the pain you must have felt—I know not if I could have withstood it alone. Why should I expect for you to?"

I smiled weakly. "Thank you, Arwen, for trying to justify my actions. It will be long before the guilt of this will leave me. Perhaps it never will. Hearing that you don't despise me—but more importantly, that you don't despise Aragorn, calms my heart more than I thought it could be calmed again. I so feared that you may reject Aragorn and that filled me with trepidation. I knew not about you at the time, but when I was made aware of your impending marriage, I was filled with fear and dread that you would not accept him, since his - dalliance with me."

"Is that why you waited to tell him?" she asked. "You were afraid I would reject him?"

"I truly did not give it a thought, Arwen," I said as honestly as I could. "I was so wrapped up in misery and fear - that was all I could think about. Very selfish of me."

"Very understandable of you," Arwen said, "considering the circumstances you found yourself in - and all alone in dealing with them. Now all is out in the open and plans will be made. We must go on from here. All will be well."

You would have thought that by now, I would have made it a habit to grab a hankie before I left my home, as often as I seemed to cry. With nothing better to use, I grabbed a corner of the blanket we had just lunched upon and began dabbing at my eyes. I do not know why, but it seemed to strike the Queen as something laughable, and before we both knew it we were in hysterics laughing. I had no idea what we were laughing at, but it felt very good. I wished not to end it, even to find out the cause.

"This is so impossible, Maeren," Arwen said at last. "We should be bitter enemies, but we are friends after only three meetings. At least I feel we are friends."

"Perhaps, someday, I will feel deserving of your friendship, but you certainly may count me as a friend of yours right now," I replied. "I have said it before, and I will probably repeat it until you would wish me to hush, but if there is anything I might do for you—anything, no matter how large or small—please allow me to help you. Anything at all."

"You are right, my friend," Arwen said solemnly, "I wish you to hush!"

That started us laughing again. After just a few moments, we fell into easy quietness.

Finally, Arwen broke the silence. "Maeren, tell me of your home in Rohan. About your family. I wish to know all about it."

I began by telling her about the land. How the golden grass of the plain rolled for miles in the breeze that always seemed to be present. How there probably was not one square league anywhere in the Riddermark that did not have at least one horse grazing there. I told her of my father and my brothers. Of Lord Keodwen and the Houses of Healing in Edoras, and how I studied the healing arts there. How I met and fell in love with my Dustin. Of delivering my Tristin into the world. Of how my small family perished in the fires of a stable.

My tears began to fall again.

"You lost your husband as well as your son, at the same time? It is truly such a tragedy. My heart cries for you, Maeren."

I dabbed at my eyes with the blanket again. "Thank your for your sympathies, Arwen. But it does feel good to tell someone of them. Of before they were killed. We had a grand life. Oh, do not get me wrong we did not live grandly. But when one lives with an excess of love, one tends to not feel the starkness of one's surroundings as much."

She considered my words for a moment, and then said, "Even though it seems that excess comes with my station, I do hope to one day have an excess of love in my life. Right now it feels as an excess—my love for Estel. But when we have children, my cup will truly be full." Her smile was radiant.

I looked down at the grass beside me, just off the blanket upon which we sat. I began pulling blades of it, and letting the pieces fall in the breeze, just as Aragorn had done that night not so long ago in my garden. I felt a pang of I know not what emotion. Longing for my husband? Jealousy, that Arwen had what I did not? I do not know. And I was not going to wallow in it.

"Let us be up and packed. I must get back to the wards," I said. I stood and began packing up. "That young soldier you met before we left—Darren?—I fear he may yet lose his leg. It was a terrible break. The bone broke through the skin, and he was brought in filthy and unbandaged. The infection has been stubborn, and while it has not worsened, it has not truly improved. Every day I pray as I remove the wrappings, that I will see improvement, but I have so far had to settle for giving thanks that he is no worse."

"I shall pray for him also," Arwen said. "I should tell my father. Perhaps he could help." I looked down, sure she could not have missed the hurt that crossed my face.

"I am sorry for the way he treated you, Maeren," she stated. "He was not himself. I have never known him to be so monstrous. I apologize for him."

"I certainly admire your father, Arwen," I said, as I strapped the food basket closed. "At least as far as his being a renown healer goes. I would gladly swallow my pride, were he to consider helping Darren. If you think there is a chance your father could heal him, or at least turn him more toward healing, then I would implore you to ask for his assistance with Darren's injury."

"Then I will ask him," she replied. "Worry not. If it is within his power to help the soldier, he will do all he can."

After we had gathered and packed all of our belongings, we loaded them on the horses and mounted. We urged our mounts into a lazy walk. I again picked up our conversation. "It was very reassuring meeting you and your kin. I had begun to despair that all Elves may be as Legolas is. Do you find him abrasive?"

She looked at me, seemingly astonished, and I feared I had angered her. Then her face dissolved into laughter. She laughed so hard I feared she would fall from the saddle. As soon as she could breathe again, she said, "Oh Maeren, are you telling me you do not find Legolas attractive?"

I smiled somewhat and retorted, "Well, yes, I suppose a woman could find him attractive. He's certainly pretty enough— "

My ears were assaulted once again by her uncontrollable laughter, so I continued to amuse her. "If he were not such a pig about being a virile male, I suppose I may be able to stomach him somewhat."

I was not disappointed. Arwen was having trouble catching her breath. She finally succeeded long enough to unintentionally egg me on some more. "I shall have an interesting conversation with the Prince, and soon." She was wiping her eyes on her sleeve, her breathing hitched with residual giggles.

I had a momentary pause for concern, that someone else should let the Elf know exactly what I thought of him, but I could not resist this opening. "A Prince? You do not say! Well, even that will not save him. He needs lessons in tact as far as I am concerned!"

"Maeren, stop! Please!" she begged. "I am close to disgracing myself by wetting my leggings!"

"All right," I said. "I will stop. I just have one more question. Are you sure he is male?"

She kicked her horse into a canter and left me behind. I quickly caught up and we rode on quietly together, but we both had smiles on our faces.

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	14. Mending Bones and Mending Fences

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The very next day, the Queen's own father, the Lord of Imladris himself, came to the Houses of Healing. I was again at Darren's bedside. In much the same way his daughter had done the day before, he walked down the aisle toward me. He smiled, and bowed his head in greeting. I returned neither of his attempts at civility. I merely raised one eyebrow in question of his presence.

"I was told I may be of assistance, with an injured soldier," he said.

"Yes, my lord," I answered evenly. "This is the soldier in question—Darren, Son of Derric of Gondor. He was brought in with a compound fracture of the tibia, and while I believe the bone is knitting, the ensuing infection has been stubborn and I have made little headway in healing it."

He approached the bed and bent down. Before touching the bandage, he looked first at me and then at Darren. "May I?" he asked.

At Darren's nod, the Elf lord untied the bandage and looked at the wound. After prodding it somewhat, causing Darren to flinch in pain, Lord Elrond asked me for several herbs, as well as tools with which to crush them and make a poultice of them. I complied and within a very short time Darren was ready to be bandaged again. Before doing that, Elrond closed his eyes and placed the palm of his hand on the injury for the briefest of moments. He then replaced the bandage with a clean one I had been about to put on Darren's leg myself.

Standing upright once more, he addressed Darren, saying, "I can sense that the infection was indeed severe, but its healing has progressed very well. This poultice should help, and I believe that from now on the wound will improve markedly. With Mistress Maeren's continued fine care, I am sure you will be up and around in no time." I did not miss, nor appreciate, his miserable attempt at flattery. However, I had to wonder if he had used some sort of Elven magic, in order to pronounce that it would 'improve markedly' from now on. The herbs he had used were none that I had not also made use of in treating this injury. However, for once, I was not that curious, so I refused to ask and he did not elaborate.

Turning to me, he then said, "Lady Maeren, if you could spare some time, I would like to talk with you." _At least the 'lady' in his statement had been a complimentary title and not a slur this time._

We took our leave of Darren and the Queen's father and I then walked back the way he had come. "Ioreth, take charge," I ordered, nastily. I was put out with my guest and she could just deal with my choler as well.

For the second day in a row, she actually made a cordial statement to me. "Yes, my lady. Consider it done." _This woman truly never ceased to amaze me. Perhaps I had been approaching her in the wrong fashion. Perhaps she thrived on disrespect and I had been giving her too little of it._

I glared at her and walked on. "Right this way," I said over my shoulder to the Elf lord and we walked toward my office.

I wondered what in Eru's name the Elf lord wished to speak to me about. It had just dawned on me that he and the rest of his Elven clan were supposed to be gone by now. What happened to their plans of departure day before yesterday?

My office was certainly not a grand place, but I refused to allow this person into my home. He deserved no courtesy from me, and I would not entertain him within my personal space. I opened the door and waved him in before me. Closing the door, I went around my whiskey barrel desk and sat in my creaking chair. As he made no move to seat himself, I invited him to sit in the chair opposite me.

Placing my arms on the desk, clasping my hands together, I asked, "What may I do for you, my lord?"

It was galling to me, but I saw amusement in his eyes. _Let him laugh it up, for all I care. I have no time for the likes of him and he can be gone just as quickly as he came. Throwing him out would actually make my day—perhaps even my year._

"It pains me greatly, Maeren," he said, obviously trying to make light of the situation, "but I must apologize to you."

I thought my jaw would drop at his nerve. "You must do nothing you wish not to do, my lord," I said icily. "I suppose Aragorn persuaded you to seek me out. He was most insistent that I not leave on my own. If that is the case, I assured him I would not. There is really no need for your false apologies."

His smile faded and he stopped his feeble attempts at charm. They were obviously not working with me. He again smiled weakly and began again. "Truly, I am sincerely sorry for my deplorable conduct. I had no call to speak to you in the manner in which I did, on the morning of our meeting two days past. My visit to you now is of my own volition, I assure you."

"Apology not accepted," I said unkindly. "Now if you would not mind, I am terribly busy." I made as if to rise, but he stopped me with an outstretched hand.

"I deserve every word you are speaking to me—and probably all the thoughts you are thinking, as well." He sat back in his chair. I reluctantly sat back in mine and the danger of my throwing him out was suspended, for the moment at least.

He continued, saying, "There is really no excuse for my behavior. I was horribly wrong to take my feelings out on you. You were very convenient to blame for my pain."

"I know not to what you are referring, my lord," I said in frustration. "Why must you speak in riddles and half statements? Do you not know how to say things plainly?"

"I do know how, Maeren," he replied calmly, "and if you will grant me the time, I will explain myself. I will probably tell you much more than you wish to know."

"Well, if what you intend is to insult me again, you may as well save your breath." _I was better at confrontation than I thought._

"I can assure you," he said, trying to soothe me, "insulting you is the furthest thing from my intention."

I sat at my desk, my ire cooling somewhat, waiting to hear what he had to say. He began again, trying to explain his behavior of the other day.

"As I said before, I had no right to treat you as outrageously as I did," he said. "There is not an excuse great enough for my conduct. However, having said that, I would like to explain my state of mind."

Elrond stood and walked to a bookcase against one wall. I had forgotten how tall he was. And his elegance and grace were mystifying. He began again trying to explain his reasons for his ill treatment of me.

"What you may or may not know is that I am half-Elven. Also called Peredhil, in my language." He removed a book from its place on the shelf and turned to look at me. His hands were fascinating. His movements, even down to the flex of his fingers, were fluid and easy.

He turned the book in his hands. "My father was Human and my mother Elven. As such, my brother, Elros, and I were gifted with the choice as to which race we would ultimately belong. I chose to be of the Firstborn—Elven kind. My brother took the other choice—to live as a Human. He has long since departed to the Halls of Mandos, which is still a cause of grief for me to this day."

Elrond opened the book, and while his eyes were looking at the pages, he was not reading them. Instead, he continued, "My children, being the offspring of a Peredhil, were also _gifted_ with this choice." He closed the book and looked at me, saying, "I say gifted, but I believe it is not a gift. It is a curse. The heartache such a _gift _has brought to me is of untold magnitude." _Did I detect a quiver in his voice? _

"In binding herself to a Human, my daughter has forfeited her immortality." He turned away from me, his face to the bookcase once again. "She has made the choice to have a Human life." His voice hesitated on the word Human. His sadness was palpable. His emotion surprised me. After our meeting the other day, I had believed him incapable of any feelings, save perhaps spite.

"So, when I learned of Est—Aragorn's indiscretion, it filled me with sorrow on Arwen's behalf. And in my own, if I would be completely honest. She has chosen mortality. Such a sacrifice is to be taken with grave seriousness and I felt as if Aragorn had not done so when he—" He left that thought unspoken. "I took my anger and sadness out on you. You were merely present - at the wrong place during the wrong time, you might say - and that was enough for me to lash out at you in my grief. When I leave for the Undying Lands, I leave my daughter behind me to a certain death. I thought my grief deep when Elros passed from this world. The sorrow from that event was nothing in comparison to this." He leaned into the bookcase, his forehead resting upon the books of one shelf.

He might have been startled when he felt my hand touch his shoulder, though he gave little indication of it. Even though he had hurt me badly, I did not have a heart of stone. I was very thankful that Arwen had purged me somewhat of my guilt yesterday. I would have crumbled into a pile of wretched Human flesh, had I learned of this for the first time from this Elven Lord, and I wished not to appear so vulnerable in his presence. Arwen had told me of this choice—this decision—but it was from her point of view. Hearing it now, from a parent's perspective, I could very well understand his pain and grief.

While what he had said the other day wounded me, I could understand his reasons now. It may take me a while to overcome my feelings of disdain for him, but I would try, nonetheless. He had known much pain. To think that this being—this Elf—had been in the world for thousands of years, was awe-inspiring. The numerous times and occasions he must have been hurt—and hurt much worse than what I had experienced at his words—were grievous to contemplate. I wondered at his life and wished I could know more of it. This mystery of Elven immortality was beyond my comprehension.

I took my hand from his shoulder and said soberly, "In light of your explanation, my earlier statement of denial concerning your apology was in error." I paused a few seconds before adding, "Apology accepted."

He turned to face me, gave me the slightest of smiles, and said, "Thank you, Maeren. I truly am sorry for hurting you. I can see now that I cast blame too harshly on you."

My brows knit together in puzzlement. "What do you mean, _you see that now?_"

Elrond helped me to my chair where I sat once again. He resumed his seat as well.

"After you left us the other day, my daughter gave me quite the talking to," he said. "I thought her ignorant of some of the words she used." He raised his eyebrows at the remembrance. "After she was finished taking me to task, she explained the situation as Aragorn had related it to her. She did not give me the chance to tell her that I had already browbeaten the information from you." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "My daughter is an exceptional person, do you not think so?"

"I certainly do think so, my lord," I said. "She is most gracious to say I am not to blame. I certainly feel blame, at least in part."

"Well," he began, "the advice I always try to convey to my children, is that events occur that cannot be changed. The only true alternative to lasting pain is acceptance of the situation and moving forward. It would indeed be considered lasting pain to an Elf, given how long we live, so to live with anger and resentment would truly be foolish. I think it would be best for all concerned if we did just that—accept the situation and dwell not in the past. The assignment of blame is unimportant in the vast scheme of this. The important thing from this time forward is seeing to your welfare and ensuring the birth of a healthy and happy child."

"I suppose you are right, my lord," I replied. "I will try to get beyond my hurt from your words. It may take some time, but I truly will attempt to forgive you." I smiled at him, unable to keep just the wee bit of facetiousness from my expression.

He smiled in return. A genuine smile. The first I had seen since I had met him at the banquet. I hoped to again reach the level of rapport with him that I felt we had then.

Elrond again began speaking. "I hope you will reconsider your decision about staying in Imladris during the time you await the child's birth. I would truly be honored for you to stay in our refuge. And I would be lying if I said I did not look forward to experiencing this process with you. Yes, I have seen Human birth before, but it has been long years. Unfortunately, Elves wish not to conceive during times of strife. It seems as if we have been in constant times of strife since the world began. That has obviously not been the case, though at times, it feels as if it has. It has been since the darkness again descended upon Middle Earth that we Elves have chosen to not bring our offspring into such discord. All Elflings born have long since reached maturity, and the Elves find themselves without young ones. That is certainly a loss to us. Children keep one young and for an Elf, that is saying much. But now, our time here is quickly over. We will all soon leave to the West—the Undying Lands. So, quite honestly, the birth of your and Aragorn's child, will probably be the last I may take part in. I would consider it a gift of great value were you to allow me to bear witness to your miracle."

I thought about that for a moment. I truly had no other place to go, and the thought of a beautiful and peaceful sanctuary, after all the ugliness of war here in Minis Tirith, was a welcome one.

"It is I who would be honored to be attended by a healer of your reputation during my confinement, "I said sincerely. "I hope the residual feelings of ill-will we may still harbor for one another, will not get in the way of our both enjoying this experience."

"The feelings will fade with time and familiarity, I believe," he said. "I find mine fading even as we speak."

"Mine also, my lord," I replied. A sudden thought entered my mind. Again, it seems, curiosity was going to get the better of me. "Did I not understand Arwen to say you were to leave two days ago?"

Elrond smiled, and said, "You understood correctly. We were to depart Minas Tirith then, but events being what they were, no one really felt like sundering themselves from my daughter. We have set our departure for a few months hence."

I wondered if my condition would cooperate with this new development. I was already three months along. If they waited any longer than a month, I would seriously doubt that there would be anyone to which this would be a secret. I had blossomed, so to speak, quite fully with Tristin. I saw no reason why this time would be any different.

I was not about to make more waves, so I decided to wait and see if someone not too caught up in the drama of this would catch the problem before it was too late. If they didn't, I certainly would make my worries known. I did not relish the idea of my condition becoming common knowledge. I would voice my concerns as soon as I met with the King and Queen again.

"I hate it that you had to change your plans," I said. "I have disrupted more lives than just my own, it seems."

Elrond chuckled and said, "I believe Estel had a hand in the disruption. Perhaps two hands, if I may be so mischievous to say."

I tried not to laugh, but it was indeed funny. I knew it would be unseemly for me to admit that, so I just smiled widely and blushed—not that I had any control over that, mind you.

"My lord," I said, "I am indeed shocked. You must refrain from your bawdy humor in my presence." I winked at him, unable to keep from conveying at least a bit, that I indeed appreciated a good jest when I heard it.

"I am afraid you are right," Elrond answered. "Forgive me. That was most inappropriate."

"I can say with certainty that I know now where Arwen gets her playful nature," I remarked.

"I know not about that." he said, "I am probably not blameless in molding her thusly, but her brothers certainly have had undue influence in her irreverence, I can assure you."

"No assurance of that on your part is necessary, my lord," I said with confidence. "I grew up with four older brothers, and I can tell you without doubt that they did indeed have great influence on _my _irreverence."

The Elf lord then stood, and held his hand out to me. I stood as well, and took his offered hand.

"I believe we may be well on our way to mending fences," Elrond said. "Do you agree?"

"I do agree, my lord," I replied.

He turned to leave, and added, "Elrond. Please, just call me Elrond. If we are to reside in the same household, I would expect our relationship to progress toward friendship. No need for formality in that case."

"As you wish, Elrond," I replied.

He bowed his head somewhat, turned, and left me alone with my thoughts.

Mending fences, indeed.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	15. Threats and Turmoil

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belong to JRR Tolkien.

A/N: I want to take this opportunity to thank my reviewers from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea what your encouragement has meant to me. As a first-time writer of _anything_, I have been very nervous about putting this story up for all to see. It helps so much to have kind and thoughtful feedback from the readers.

It had been two weeks since I had informed Aragorn that he would be a father. I had not seen him since he had followed me into my garden, the morning of that dreadful meeting in the Citadel. That was just as well. I liked him well enough—in fact, had he not been married, I would find him very attractive. I suppose that should not surprise me, considering I was having his child. But circumstances were as they were, and there would never be anything between us ever again. At least between us personally. We would, of course, come to some agreement as to when and how Aragorn would be allowed to see his child. One thing that was becoming very apparent to me was, that he would never agree to stay away.

However, his royal advisers felt differently about things. I had been approached by one of them, a man by the name of Glosten. He was an adviser from the 'old school'—Denethor's rule. Why Aragorn kept the old bird around was beyond my way of thinking, especially after I had the pleasure of meeting with him earlier today. I was surprised it had taken the King's advisers this long to seek me out. After the verbal attack visited on me by the Lord of Imladris, I had not expected Aragorn's promise of his advisers' amity toward me to be one he could enforce. It appears that I was correct.

This morning, Lord Glosten approached me in the Houses—at about ten, to be somewhat precise about it. He bade me to find a place where we may speak, so I quickly ushered him into my office, such as it is. He got right to the point. No beating about the bush for this lord. No indeed.

"My lady," he said. "As you know, I am an adviser to the King." He was also a pompous ass, if looks were of any value in sizing someone up. He was a plump sort of man and his jowls quivered when he spoke—which was often and loud, if this visit was any indication. His eyes were placed too close together and his nose was sharp. Beak-like, if I had to put a name to it. I despised him on sight. My intuition was working frantically, shouting to me that this man was of a reptilian species. I was doubly on my guard, carefully weighing my responses to him.

"Yes, my lord," I replied. "I am aware of your station. What exactly do you wish to speak to me about?"

"I see no reason to not be forthcoming, so let me get to it," he replied. "I understand you are with child, and for some reason, you believe the King to be involved. Upon what do you base your claim?"

I shook my head, wondering if my ears had suddenly gone daft, muddling the man's words around so that they did not make sense. I had been nauseous since before the sun rose, so I was in no mood for his serpentine hissing.

"What exactly are you implying, my lord?" I asked, my eyes narrowing more with each word.

"I imply nothing," he said, trying to be as noncommittal as he could. "I simply asked a question and I am waiting for an answer." He was picking at his nails, as if to make sure they were not chipped or dirty. I had an image of a vulture, cleaning its talons after a meal of rotting flesh.

I rose from my chair and went around my desk - standing before him, nose to beak. He straightened his stance, pulling back slightly, apparently surprised by my nerve.

"My lord," I said. "I do not believe I heard you correctly. Did you just ask me if I was falsely naming the King as my consort?"

He stepped back, smoothing the lapels of his vest, as if he were trying to brush away some dirt or debris I had somehow gotten on his person from my closeness. His smile was cruel and his eyes were cold.

"That is exactly what I am asking, my _lady_," he replied. _Why did everyone think to punish me with that particular slur? I was quickly growing tired of hearing it._

I stepped up into his face again, even though his breath was foul enough to kill an ox. I had put up with too much lately and he was going to regret he had ever darkened the door to the Houses of Healing today. I know I was certainly regretting it.

My voice was quiet, but deadly, as I told him exactly how I saw things. "Has the King not answered this question for you, _my_ _lord_? I suppose he has, or you would not be here. If you think to intimidate me into withdrawing the truth of his involvement, you have _another—think—coming_." I backed off from him, starting to pace. I could feel a rant coming on. It seemed he would learn the hard way about the moodiness of a woman in the condition of being with child.

I circled around him. My office was small, so I was by necessity, having to be nearer him than I liked. And I liked it not at all. "The King assured me that I would not be dealing with any of the counselors to the Crown, but it seems he was mistaken, in your case. Or perhaps he was only speaking of the men of his counsel, not meaning to include the serpents that may coil in the dark corners of the Citadel."

I have to hand it to him. He seemed not one bit flustered. He acted as if being assailed verbally by a woman was a common thing for him. Maybe it was.

"I know not your game, Miss—" he began.

"Game?" I asked. "_I _am playing games, sir? I am playing no games. But it certainly appears as if you are. Let us get to the bottom of this, Lord Glosten - what do you want?"

"If we are speaking bluntly," he said coldly, "I want you gone. Away. Out of Gondor. Off of Middle Earth, if it were possible!"

"You are wasting your breath sir," I said quietly, as I stood next to the bookcase on which sat the skull. I traced the outline of its eye socket and continued, "If I decide to leave, I will do it on my own terms and in my own time. You have absolutely no bearing on my decision at all. Are we clear on this, my _lord_?"

"Your life is but that of an insect in the vastness of the King's rule," he said. "Highly expendable, if you get my meaning."

"I do believe you are threatening me, Lord Glosten," I said, my ire rising with every passing second. "You and what army will get between the King and his child? Have you asked him how he would feel, were the mother of his child 'expended' before said child was even born?"

If I had expected him to back down, I was sorely disappointed.

"Never would any of the advisers to the King come between him and a child of his. The question is, _is this a child of his? _I have dealt with your sort before, _lady_. You seek out the King's bed and get yourself with child by whatever means necessary—and by whomever necessary—in order to coerce the government into paying you off."

I slapped the wretch as hard has I could. My hand was stinging, but it was a welcome pain. Slapping him did my heart very much good. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing it painfully, and brought his nose to within an inch of mine. A horrible image crossed my mind—that of him trying to kiss me. Well, let him try! I possessed teeth and knees and I would not hesitate to use them. I had four older brothers and if this fool thought me defenseless, he was truly a fool.

I wrenched my hand from his grasp. "Get out of here, Lord Glosten," I snarled. "You do not scare me with your threats. I have also dealt with your sort before. No, let me rephrase that. I have never been unfortunate enough to have had dealings with anything like you prior to this."

He laughed. It was a sinister laugh, full of malice. But he did leave. I slammed the door behind him and went behind my desk, lowering myself into my chair. I took several deep breaths. I have not been that angry ever before, I do not believe. I actually saw red. I always thought that but an expression, but for me, it was now a truth.

I sat at my desk, willing my heart to resume its normal rhythm. I was beginning to have doubts that I would live to see this day through. It was getting worse by the hour. I knew not how much more stress I could endure before it killed me.

My thoughts were in turmoil. What, if anything, should I do about Lord Glosten and his idle threats? And were they, in fact, idle? I had no doubt that behind the coldness of his eyes, slithered a serpent that would have no qualms about having another killed. It wasn't just me I was concerned about. I had a responsibility to this child I carried. If its life was in danger, I would protect it with all my being. I was its mother and that is just a mother's way.

Yes, I would have to tell someone. I knew not who to go to with this. Faramir had already done more than his share of handling my problems. However, I wished to not be involved with Aragorn more than was absolutely necessary. But I knew, given the status of this baby's father, that I had to inform someone about this threat. It would be careless of me if I did not.

I wondered what possible reason this Glosten would have for seeing me dead. My child posed no threat to the King. Perhaps it was simply that this reptile felt the need to have power over someone he deemed helpless. I hardly felt the government would go broke even if I wanted the wealth from coercion. Was it because they wanted no confusion when it came to heirs to the throne? Perhaps it was feared that if the child were allowed to reach adulthood, he may at some time come forth, and resort to coercion himself, or challenge any legitimate heir. If that were the case, even if I did leave Minas Tirith, that would not take away the threat of the child. Those who felt the King or the government was in peril would see to it that the menace was vanquished. Yes, disclosure of this adviser's threat was imperative.

I was startled by a soft knock on the door_. Valar! I hadn't been shouting loud enough for anyone to hear me in the wards, had I?_

"Who is it, please?" I called back.

"It would be your friend and walking partner, Gimli," was the reply.

I hurried to the door and opened it, not sure if I was happy about seeing him or not. After all, I had all but deceived him about my condition. I was apprehensive about how he may feel about me.

"Come in, Gimli," I said breathlessly. "It is so good to see you. I have been missing my walks these past few days. And missing your company, very much."

He entered the room and I closed the door. He seated himself in the chair in front of the desk. I walked around the desk, sitting in my own creaky chair. I was horribly afraid Gimli was hurt or angry with me.

Gimli didn't give me a chance to speak. "Maeren, before you say a word, I feel it important to tell you that I understand why it is that you did not tell me of your condition. I would have gladly heard you, but some things are hard to speak of, even among friends."

I smiled at him, but my tears had started. I placed my elbows on the desktop and covered my face with my hands. Gimli came around the desk and put his arm around my shoulders, offering his handkerchief to me.

"There, there, Lass," he said softly, patting my back. "You needn't cry. I hope you did not think I would disdain you for this. You are far too special for this small thing to have any bearing on our friendship. The turmoil you must be going through is daunting, I am sure. Dry your eyes and speak to me, lass." He retreated back to his chair, never taking his eyes from me for a moment.

"Gimli, I love you, my friend," I said, my voice stuffy from weeping. "You are the sweetest, dearest person I believe I have ever had the pleasure of knowing." I used his proffered hanky and dabbed at my eyes. My voice would not stop trembling. I was so overwrought by the morning's events, I was having trouble keeping it steady.

"Oh, Maeren," he said, frowning and shaking his head, pretending to be shocked. "Sweet is hardly a word used to describe a Dwarf. If you wish to offend me, well, you have found the way to do it, if you persist in calling me names!" He was smiling, trying to cheer me up and stop my crying.

"I am sorry, Gimli," I said, returning his smile. "It will never happen again."

"That is better," he replied. "Now, is there aught I may do for you? Anything. You name it and it shall be done."

I thought about the threat made by Glosten. Perhaps Gimli would know whom I should tell about his attempted intimidation.

"Gimli," I said, "there is something I would speak to you about." I tried to settle myself down somewhat more and then began my tale of my morning caller.

"Just before you came here, I had a visitor," I said. "It was one of the King's advisers, a man by the name of Lord Glosten." I couldn't help an involuntary shiver. I could tell Gimli saw it by the resulting frown on his face. "The man was most vile, Gimli. It has been long since I have detested someone on sight, but it took only seconds before I knew he was up to no good. He threatened me, Gimli. Now that scares me a bit, do not get me wrong. But it is the child I carry that I am concerned about. What if he makes good on his threat? He told me I was quite expendable and that he wanted me gone from Gondor."

The anger building in the Dwarf was plain on his face. I would not have been surprised to see smoke waft up from his ears, he appeared so angry.

"He threatened you?" he asked, his voice caustic.

"Yes, Gimli, he did," I replied.

He rose from his chair and began pacing as I had done just a few minutes before.

"You worry no more about it, Maeren," he said at last. "I will see to this Glosten, have no fear. However, it is something Aragorn must be apprised of and I will also see to that. I hope you have no quarrel with that plan, but I will not be put off. He must know of this threat to you."

"You will have no quarrel from me, my friend," I said. I was glad this would be something I need not concern myself over any more. And I would _not_ concern myself over it. I had great faith in Gimli and I knew he would not take a threat to my life lightly. It showed on his face. "I agree with you. The King must be told."

"The King?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "I would think you would be on friendly enough terms to call him by name." He added quickly, "And I mean no disrespect by that remark."

"I take no slight from your words, Gimli," I replied, even though I felt my face grow warm in a blush. "But I really feel it best to not become too familiar with him—well, any more familiar with him. He is the King. He is very married to a Queen of extreme grace and sweetness and I refuse to be a threat to that in any way."

"I well understand," he said. "I just wanted to be sure you understood whatever guilt you may feel is his to feel as well. He is not more exalted than you, my dear. I have known him long—well, not _so_ long, I suppose. Let me say, very intensely for a somewhat short while—and he is not the pretentious type. He, nor I, would ever feel you inferior to him in any way."

I smiled at my friend. "Thank you, Gimli. You know not how much I treasure you." I sniffed and my breath hitched, unable to stop my tears, even though Gimli comforted me and eased my mind.

"Maeren, Maeren," he said, shaking his head. "You will have me convinced you are sweet on me, should you persist in your declarations of love. And do not forget what I just told you about calling a Dwarf names. The same offense can be taken, if you tell a Dwarf he is lovable."

I smiled again. I wanted to laugh, but could not summon the energy to do so.

"Maeren, I must take my leave of you now," Gimli said, rising from his chair. "I wanted the air cleared between us, especially since we will be traveling together in a very short while. Have you a notion as to when that may be?"

"I suppose I am ready whenever my escort would be ready," I replied. "And after this _toad's_ threat today, I will be more than ready to leave Minas Tirith behind me for all time."

"There I have it, then," he said. "I will inform Aragorn that you have given the go to our departure when all else is ready. And I will also tell him of the _toad's_ visit to you and his subsequent threat." Gimli gave me a bow, smiled, opened the door and left.

I rose and went to my room. Let Ioreth have the Houses of Healing. I could not deal with the responsibility—or her interference, truth be known—any longer. I was tired, sick it would seem, and very ready to get on with the next phase of my life. I was going to bed and sleep. For hours if I felt the need to do so.

_For days, would be more my need_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

As soon as I reached my room, I fell upon my bed. I lay on my stomach, my arms crossed with my head cradled upon them. My tears were spent, so I just lay there, wallowing in self-pity for a few moments. I was so tired of it all—the morning sickness, the weeping, the threats, the people trying to control my life, Ioreth being Ioreth—everything. I could not leave Minas Tirith soon enough. However, with that thought, I was brought up short by doubt. Fear, almost, of having to live in a completely foreign place with a foreign people. I knew nothing of Elves or their ways, only snippets told to me by Arwen and Elrond. I wondered if they did possess magic, and if so, to what extent did they possess it? All I knew of Elves was that they were tall, willowy, elegant, and above all graceful in their movements. I knew they were immortal, which was very hard to fathom. I knew that they no longer had Elflings and that Arwen was just about the youngest one alive—and she was almost three thousand years old! _How was I going to get through these last five and a half months?_

I began thinking of what I would be leaving behind. Faramir and Eowyn. While I had known Eowyn for years, and had much in common with her, it was Faramir I would miss the most. He had been a rock for me these past few weeks. Without him, I doubt I would have survived at all. He was kind, compassionate, and understanding without being patronizing—most of the time. I would miss him greatly. And Arwen. I knew not how to feel about Arwen. I was coming to consider her almost a friend, but how was that possible? Anyway, I would miss her also.

My dream of being a Warden in the Houses of Healing was all but dead. I certainly knew how to throw my life into disarray, did I not? How could I have let this happen? I could blame the times and circumstances, but I knew if I were not so weak, none of this would have come to pass. I should have been stronger. My father did not raise any weaklings or cowards, at least that is what he always said. Little did he know that I harbored the results of my weakness within my womb right now. I had nothing or anyone to blame but myself. Since it seemed that sleep, even though I was tired beyond belief, was not going to visit me right now, I decided to try and put some order to my possessions. I would have to decide which things to take with me and which things I was going to have to sacrifice, or give to someone for safekeeping until I could return for them. I suppose Faramir would do it, or find someone who could help me. There I go again. Leaning on someone else to solve my problems. _Would I never learn?_

I wandered around my room, deciding the fate of my belongings. The washstand and bed were here when I arrived, as well as the table and chairs. The dishes had been furnished, as well, but I had brought my own, so would have to decide what to do about them. I was _not_ giving up my old chest. I kept everything that was of value to me in there. None of the things that were stowed inside of it would be of any value to anyone else, but I would be crushed if it or its contents were lost. It would definitely have to be kept somewhere here in Minas Tirith.

I had assorted odds and ends that could also be stored within the chest. Various and sundry clothes could stay. I would not be able to fit into them soon anyway. My boots I would wear on the journey to Rivendell, so I could store the shoes I wore every day in the bottom of my valise while I traveled.

I was finally getting tired to the point of being sleepy again. I lay back down on my bed, snuggling in the quilt I always had draped upon the foot of it. It took not long for me to fall asleep, but my sleep was not peaceful.

I dreamt of snakes surrounding me, striking and biting at my ankles as I stood tethered and alone in my garden.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	16. Plans and Preparations

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

**A/N: I would like to clear up something that has been mentioned in the reviews a few times now, about the Elves and sexuality. I am aware that in Tolkien's world they only took one mate in their entire lifetime. ****I have no trouble with them having one mate and keeping themselves to their vows forevermore, but it is the millennia they must spend prior to finding that mate to bond with that I have trouble envisioning.**** All that time and never-? It wasn't me who wrote the original story, so I do respect that. But that is why I go AU on that concept.  
**

**And I wanted to comment that in my story, I really did not want Arwen to be portrayed as being a nasty wife. Having Arwen tell Maeren (at least once) that she had lovers before she fell in love with Aragorn, was one of the ways I could make it plausible that she could forgive both Aragorn and Maeren for their naughty deed. And let's face it, a little spice never hurts! I have strayed from canon in this, as well as in other ways, for purposes of the storyline—and sometimes out of ignorance!**

I was still asleep when there was a knock on my door. In my hazy state of mind, I wondered if I was perhaps dreaming. I waited a few moments and the sound came again. I seriously did not want to rise. I did not even want to be awake yet, truth be known. I decided to take the lazy woman's way out.

"Who is it?" I called from my bed. I cleared my throat. It sounded as if frogs had taken up residence within it.

"Your favorite Steward," was Faramir's reply.

"Faramir!" I exclaimed. "I'll be right there."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was so glad it was not anyone else and I was very happy to see Faramir again. I threw back the quilt I had snuggled within and climbed out of bed. It did indeed seem as if it was a climb. I still felt exhausted.

I wandered over to the door, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands as I went. I was annoyed at how unsteady I was on my feet. No one should feel this exhausted.

My brow knit in concern, as I approached the door. I could hear the doorknob being turned and jiggled. _I hadn't dreamed Faramir had answered me, had I? _

Cautiously, I called out again, "Faramir?"

"Yes, Maeren," came his singsong reply. "It's me."

I reached for the doorknob and turned it, opening it to see Faramir standing there, grinning from ear to ear, with an oilcan in his hand. He looked so triumphant. He came partway inside, pausing to oil this side of the knob as well as around the catch. He jiggled it a bit more, then turned it to and fro a couple of times. It didn't groan. Not at all.

He turned to me, that killer smile beaming on his face. "I did it, did I not?"

I shut the door and took my turn at rotating the knob. No groans, squeaks or clicks. Just smooth action.

"Faramir, you are a genius!" I exclaimed. He just continued to beam.

I finally began to feel sensible again, not so cloudy from sleep. I bid Faramir to sit at my table and I set about making us tea. As the water heated, I set out cups and their saucers and some honey I kept in a small pot. I smiled as I held the little honey pot. My father had given it to me when I left Edoras. It had been the honey pot my family had used all my life—ever since I could remember. My mother often held it and gazed at it, just before she put it away after a meal or tea. I asked her once about why she liked such a silly old pot and her answer was quick. Her face had a faraway look, neither sad nor glad. She told me her mother had given it to her when she had married my father and when she held it in her hands, it made her feel close to her mother, who was long dead. I had since cherished the ugly little pot, especially after my own mother left Middle Earth. I never asked for it, but I suppose my father had seen me gaze at it whenever I held it. He knew it would comfort me while I was away from home.

The kettle's lid did a little clacking dance, indicating that the water inside was boiling. I grabbed a towel and lifted the kettle from the hearth and set it on the table. I proceeded to steep the tea for a few minutes longer than usual. I wanted it very strong.

I finally sat and heaved a big sigh. I smiled at Faramir. "You actually fixed that horrible, groaning knob. I am so proud to know such a handy man."

"Yes, Maeren," he began, "it took such effort to bring an oil can with me and actually apply the oil to that grating knob over there. I am indeed, as you once told me about yourself, the best thing since the invention of armor." I laughed at his silliness. It felt so good to laugh, but it still took almost too much effort to do so.

"Maeren, my friend," Faramir said. "How are you doing? You still look dreadfully pale and tired."

"I am getting along all right, Faramir," I replied. "It's this dratted morning sickness. It really should be gone by now, but it still plagues me."

"Is this something I should worry about?" he asked, concerned. I could not help but notice the pink tinge on the Steward's cheeks. This was probably a subject he deemed a bit discomfiting for his tastes. As a healer, I discussed such things every day, so it felt very natural to speak of them.

"No, not really," I answered. "Some women have the malady up until the time they give birth. How I hope I am not one of them this time! The nausea makes even the thought of eating an unpleasant one." His blush deepened, so I decided he had been subjected to enough embarrassment for one day.

I busied myself once again with the tea, pouring Faramir and me both a cup. It was very strong, so I added ample honey, and passed it to Faramir, who did likewise. I took a big sip, smiled, and sighed. It was just what I wanted and needed.

I looked into my cup as I started speaking. "Has Gimli talked to the King about my visitor of this morning?"

"Gimli was in the Citadel earlier and brought us tidings of Glosten's visit to you," Faramir said. "I wish I could say that the worm is a threat no longer, but I cannot. He is a powerful man in Minas Tirith in his own right, as well as an advisor to the King. His nature is such that it is better to have him close to hand, and be able to watch him somewhat, than it would be to just sever ties with him and then wonder what form his scheming will take. We wanted to take him to the outskirts of the city and let the Anduin be his final resting place, but that is not our way. That is Glosten's way."

"We?" I asked. "How many people were present when Gimli told you the news?" I knew not why this mattered, but it made me feel uneasy to know my life was being discussed and dissected by a group that may include strangers.

"It was just Gimli, Aragorn, and me," he assured me. "Gimli's vote on what action we should take involved his axe. The King overruled him." On a more somber note, he said, "Maeren, I am sorry this is happening to you. In all the turmoil of being new in office and setting the city to rights after the war, I completely forgot about Glosten. I should have expected something like this from him. He is such a worm."

I laughed softly, and said, "That is at least the third animal of a lower species Glosten has been compared to today, at least by me or my friends. Let's see. He has been called a toad and a worm. I am including what I thought of him—he is also a snake." Faramir smiled. I added, "Do not worry yourself about it at all, Faramir. You have problems enough already."

I took another sip of my tea, then set my cup back upon its saucer. I traced the rim of the cup with my finger, feeling its smoothness. "Did the King speak to you of the arrangements for my leaving Minas Tirith?" I finally asked.

"Yes," he said, with a thoughtful look on his face. "Aragorn told me that you and Lord Elrond had come to an understanding of sorts, and the original plan was back in place, whatever that means." He looked at me pointedly, but when I just raised my eyebrows and pursed my lips, he got the message that it was something I wished not to discuss. It was all over and done with and such a long, detailed story, I couldn't bring myself to open up the subject again.

He continued on, respecting my wishes. "That's why I am here, actually. Aragorn told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to summon you to the palace. That said, he requests that you think _strongly_ about visiting with him and the Queen soon." He stopped, giving me an impish grin, in hopes I suppose, to placate me—and perhaps wheedle the details of this story out of me. When it seemed as if I would not be forthcoming with the details of this incident either, he sighed and continued. "In fact, if you are ready, I would be happy to escort you. You are not ordered to attend the royals, but I _am_ to bring you to the Citadel, if you agree. I really do not know what is going on here, but I believe the King is testing my powers of persuasion. And before you say anything, remember—I am just the messenger."

I couldn't help laughing at Faramir. Aragorn had obviously told him that I was not very amenable to orders—especially royal ones, at this point in time. I was glad that the King had taken me seriously. However, after Lord Glosten's visit, I was now more than ready to retreat to the safety of the Citadel - with an escort.

"Let me see— " I said, biting my lower lip. "Do I wish to go to the Citadel or not? Hmmm." I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. Faramir cocked his head to the side, giving me a frustrated smile. He raised his eyebrows, obviously waiting for my decision.

"I suppose I am ready," I said. "It _is_ my idea to attend them, is that not correct?"

"Totally your idea, my lady," he replied with a smile and a shake of his head.

I stepped to the washstand, to check my appearance before we left. I was appalled. I had not even been completely awake when Faramir knocked at my door. The woman reflected back at me now was decidedly disheveled. I started laughing, covering my face with my hands.

"What?" Faramir asked, bewildered.

"I am surprised you did not run away in fright when I answered the door looking like this," I replied. "How embarrassing!"

"Come now, Maeren," Faramir said, "It's not really _that_ bad."

"So you admit it," I exclaimed. "My appearance is bad, just not _that_ bad."

"You know good and well, that is not what I meant," Faramir said with chagrin.

"Faramir, I really should change," I said, hating to keep him waiting any longer. "I am hardly presentable enough for slopping swine, much less attending the King and Queen."

"Take your time, Maeren," he replied. "I will go into the wards and visit with Ioreth. See how the old—lady is getting along these days."

I laughed, as he closed the door behind him. I unpinned my hair, letting it fall about my shoulders and I gave it a good brushing. It took but a few twists and I had it pinned back into its knot. It didn't take me long to change my dress and wash my face. With one last look in the mirror, I stepped out of my room and joined Faramir in the hall outside the wards.

"And how is the old—lady?," I asked sarcastically.

"She is doing famously," Faramir said. "She sang your praises until I believed my ears would go numb." Faramir opened the door for me and we stepped out into the street.

"Oh my!" I retorted. "I do believe her singing could make your ears go numb, but I should go back in there and check her temperature. She must be in a raging fever to have sung _my _praises."

Faramir grabbed my arm. I had turned around and was heading back toward the door. "For a woman so weak and sickly," he said, "You certainly have enough spunk left in you."

"Faramir, I believe your ears may need a good laving, if you thought dear Ioreth was singing my praises."

"All right!" he said. "I lied! She did not even mention your name—not once."

I smiled and said, "Now that is the Ioreth I know and love."

We walked the rest of the way to the Citadel in silence. It was early afternoon and people were about in large numbers. Faramir held out his hand for me to grasp. We were literally wading through a sea of bodies at one point. I ignored his hand and just continued on. I was not about to be the cause of any more gossip that may be circulating about the Steward and me. I had not heard any such talk, but usually the ones being slandered, were the last to know that the whispers on everyone's lips were about them. After a bit of jostling, and walking up steps and down some others, we were finally at the Citadel. Faramir entered without knocking. He ushered me inside and closed the door. I had to stop to catch my breath.

A servant appeared and without even so much as a word being spoken, he directed Faramir and me to follow him. We walked through a veritable maze of hallways and finally were ushered into a small sitting room. The King and Queen were standing together and we had obviously interrupted them somewhat, for they stepped apart suddenly. Arwen greeted me, grasping my hands in hers. She led me to a chair.

"Maeren, it is good to see you," the Queen exclaimed.

Aragorn just dipped his head to me in greeting and crooked his finger at Faramir, beckoning him closer. The Steward left my side and went to Aragorn, where the King whispered something into his ear. He turned from the King and on his way past me, Faramir gave my arm a squeeze and left.

"May I get you anything, Maeren?" Arwen asked. "Tea? Water? Wine? Anything?"

I smiled at her and said, "A cup of tea would be wonderful, if you would not mind." I had just finished a cup at my own home, but it hadn't completely done its magic of waking me sufficiently yet. I had a feeling I would need all my wits about me right now.

"Sit here," Arwen said as she directed me to a chair. There were four chairs in a group around a small table, which was laden with a silver tea service and all of the amenities to go with it. The Queen poured and handed a fine porcelain cup to me. I set it down and sweetened it, stirring the tea with as much quietness as I could in the silent room. It almost seemed sinful to break the quietness here. I know not why, but it did just the same. _Must be the awe in which I held the royals still. Arwen and I seemed to be more than just mere acquaintances. Perhaps it was Aragorn's presence._

Aragorn walked toward Arwen and me and took a seat in one of the other unoccupied chairs. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. I hated it when he took that posture. I felt as if he was about to lay out the law to me, as a parent would to an errant child. And I still was in no mood for orders from him or anyone else.

"So," he began, "are you ready to leave Minas Tirith behind?"

"Yes," I replied. "After Lord Glosten's visit this morning, I am more than ready. I hate running from the man, but I am no warrior and the baby must be protected. So I suppose I run."

He said sympathetically, "There is no need to run, but you really should be going. However, you will not be going alone. The previous arrangements—having Legolas and Gimli accompany you—have been solidified. However, there was a change of plans for the rest of Arwen's family. They decided to remain here in Minas Tirith for the time being and they do not plan to leave for their respective lands for more than a month. We all know that will be too long for you to wait."

"Yes," I said. "Lord Elrond told me as much when he visited me before. And I do know I am running out of time before I must be gone, for obvious reasons."

"Maeren," Arwen put in, "we will keep a close eye on this Glosten parasite." _Being likened to a parasite was now added to the growing list of names for the good Lord Glosten. _"We will not allow anyone to follow you when you leave. As a precaution, we will have our own spies out watching for suspicious activities. A few days after you have gone, Elrohir and Elladan will follow, to make certain you have not been followed. They will catch up with you quickly." Here Arwen smiled, "In this way you will have someone to escort you officially into Rivendell. There are always Elves there, but it would be best if my brothers were to accompany you, to be sure you would be welcomed past the ford. Legolas is familiar with Imladris. He has, in fact, been there on many occasions, but since it is a hidden sanctuary, it is guarded closely. I am certain he would be admitted, but I would feel better if my brothers were there to insure a safe passage for you all."

I nodded my head. "When do you propose we leave?" I asked.

"I see no reason to wait," Aragorn answered. "Would you be ready by tomorrow? Or perhaps the next day?"

"If you have any large items, my family will bring all that you cannot carry with you now," Arwen said. _She was such a wonderful person!_

"In that case," I said resolutely, "I can be ready by tomorrow. I must tell Ioreth and the others in the wards about my departure. I really have no reason to give her for why I might be going, so if you could help me think of something plausible, I would appreciate it immensely."

Arwen smiled at me again. "I believe if you tell her you are going to the home of my father to further study the healing arts, that would be a suitable explanation. Do you not think so?"

"I believe that to be a wonderful explanation." I replied. "I wish I had thought of it - it is a brilliant plan."

"My wife is indeed brilliant," Aragorn said.

"Think not to sweet talk me, Estel," Arwen purred. "I am more than just a pretty face."

"I never said to the contrary," the King said.

I was growing tired of this little game, so I stood. "If there is nothing else," I said, "I should get started gathering my belongings together. Arwen, I will leave the things I cannot manage on this trip stacked in the center of my room. I will do my best to have it in an orderly fashion, so there will be a minimum of inconvenience to your family."

"Maeren," Arwen said, "could I possibly help you? I have much to discuss with you before you leave."

"Well, I do not know about you helping me," I said. "But I would love your company, while I pack."

"I'll get my cloak," she said. She kissed Aragorn on her way past him and glided out of the room.

_Oh wonderful—I am alone with the King._

He smiled at me and said, "I will not bite, Maeren. If I did not know better, I would think you detested the very sight of me."

"Perhaps 'detested' is a bit harsh," I replied with a wistful smile. My smile faded as I added, "Really, Aragorn. Since I have met Arwen and she has not only been gracious to me, but has forgiven me as well, I am very uncomfortable in your presence. I know not why this is, but it is."

"I do not suppose friendship will be in the cards for us any longer then," he said. "That is a shame. You were a good friend, but I understand and support your feelings in this. You will have no quarrel from me."

"Yes," I said pensively, "I suppose that would be the best thing. We will, of course, need to be cordial for the child's welfare, but I suppose Arwen will be present when any meetings with the baby will occur, so there should be no problem there."

He smiled, and said, "Well, if you would excuse me, I have work I must get back to."

"Yes," I replied, "work."

The next thing I knew, I was alone in the little room. The silent room, in which the quiet was now deafening.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The Queen and I went back to my home, and I set to work sorting my belongs into several stacks: those things I would need regardless of their size, things I would like to take and their size was small, things I definitely could not bring this at this time, and trash for the rubbish heap.

I carefully wrapped my few dishes amid clothes I would not need at this time, and put them in the chest I brought from Edoras—the one containing my wedding dress. I did the same with other glass breakables. I tucked a book or two in my valise, which I then loaded with as many clothes as I could take on this trip. The Queen and I kept up a running commentary during my packing and it seemed that in no time, I was finished.

I smiled as I surveyed my packed belongings. "There isn't really much, now that I look at it. I suppose I do not have that many worldly possessions." A sudden thought struck me. "Oh no," I exclaimed. "My office. There are stacks of books in there."

"Worry not about it Maeren," Arwen said. "I can send someone to crate them and then send them with my family. Let us go in there and see if there is anything you may wish to have with you now."

I wanted to weep. Arwen was unbelievable. How I wished she was not the King's wife, so that we may truly be friends. Instead of weeping or getting sappy, I said, "Thank you, Arwen. You know not how much your help means to me."

We went across the hall to my office and when I opened the door, I was close to panic. "Oh my. It is worse than I thought."

She went further into the room, looking around and a smile slowly spread across her face. "So many books," she said. "Have you read them all?"

It was my turn to smile. "No, I admit I have not read them all. On occasion, I do look through them to find some method of healing or to research symptoms so that I may treat something I am unsure of. But you must promise never to reveal that I said such a thing. It must be thought that I know all there is to know about healing."

She laughed and said, "Your secret is safe with me." She wandered over to the shelf on which the skull sat, and frowned. "Who is this?" she asked, pointing at the cranium.

With barely a smile I said, "That is a cousin who taunted me when I was a child."

Arwen's eyes grew wide. "You are jesting, are you not?"

I laughed at that and said, "Yes, I am jesting. The look on your face was wonderful."

"Oh Maeren," she said, conspiratorially. "You must take this with you tomorrow. Think of the fun you can have with Legolas and Gimli, not to mention my brothers! Oh how I wish I could go, to see their reactions."

We both laughed then, as I took my bony friend from his perch on the shelf. "You are too evil, my Queen," I said. "But your ideas are invaluable."

I went to my desk and rummaged through the papers on top. There weren't many there. Lord Jeneson did not pay enough attention to the Houses of Healing to even send over inventory sheets. I kept my own lists, simple though they were. They kept the supplies in order and let me know when we were low on something. I left the lists in the center of my desk. They would be easy for anyone to find and use.

My eyes lit on the small stone I always kept on the corner of my desk. It was so much a part of me, I almost hadn't noticed it there. My rock. My Tristin had given me this rock the same year he and his father were killed. It was a little over an inch wide, and was shaped as a heart. Almost a perfect heart shape. I have always treasured it, never more than since his death. I pressed it to my own heart, saying a silent prayer to my son, telling him his mother loved him now as much as she ever did. I took one final look around, grabbed the skull and walked to the door.

"Let us be off, then," I said. Thinking about my son, I had felt the tears start to well in my eyes. But I was proud. My voice was strong and not tremulous. I had to find a way to get a grip on all of these tears. And this seemed like a good start.

We went back to my room and Arwen reached the door to open it for me, because my arms were full with a skull and a rock. As she closed the door behind us, she suddenly said, "The doorknob was silent! How wonderful."

"Yes," I replied, "Faramir oiled it for me. Now that I am going, it is finally silenced."

I deposited my armload onto my little table and collapsed into a chair. Arwen sat opposite me and gingerly poked at my _cousin_. I smiled at her again and as she looked at me her eyes widened, as if another ingenious idea had just crossed her evil mind.

"Maeren," she said, "there are a few things I must tell you about Elves. I know Legolas and my brothers will get immense pleasure in shocking you, so I wish for you to be prepared."

"Are Elves so different from men that they would be shocking?" I asked.

"Let me inform you of the differences and you will see how those three could make your life uneasy," she replied. Arwen rose from her chair and began walking aimlessly through the room, as she filled me in on how my Elven companions would try to disarm me.

"As I told you the day we rode," she began, "Elves have heightened senses. What I did not explain was what that included. Our eyes can see leagues with ease and our hearing is more than sharp, so if you do not want Legolas or Elrohir or Elladan to hear something you say, you had better be sure they are nowhere near." _"Nowhere near," _she repeated with emphasis. "Another important point is, do not be alarmed when you camp for the night. Elves have no shame of their bodies, so do not be surprised when they disrobe before you without any thought. They may actually do this without meaning to embarrass you, but if they see that it has, they will be sure to embarrass you with it any chance they get." _I could see how my training as a younger sister of brothers was going to come in handy yet._

She came back to sit at the table once more. "And this little tidbit will save you much pain. Elves do not sleep as Humans do. Their eyes do not close as they rest and they are still somewhat aware of their surroundings. So do not think one of them dead, if they lay there before you unblinking."

"Let me see if I have this straight," I said. "Senses—shame—sleep. Does that about cover it?"

"Oh yes!" Arwen exclaimed. "I almost forgot one of the most important things! Elves can move with such stealth that they make no sound—at least no sound that a Human can hear. Their footsteps are silent, so they sometimes enjoy sneaking up on someone and frightening them."

"All right," I said. "Senses—shame—sleep—and sneaking. Anything else you can think of?"

"I believe that about covers it, but if I think of anything else, I will tell you before you leave," she said with a sly slant to her eyes. "I would so love to see their faces when you are unaffected at their antics."

"Even with your warnings," I said skeptically, "I am still not sure I will pass all their little tests with ease. But I will try—for your sake. I will try very hard to make you proud."

We laughed again and rose. It was time for the Queen to go to her home.

"I am sure someone will be by later to inform you of the time of your departure on the morrow," Arwen said. "I will miss you, Maeren. We have not known each other long and the manner of our friendship is different, but I have grown attached to you quickly. I will be there to see you off in the morning, we can say our final goodbyes then. For now, I must be going."

"Thank you for all your help, Arwen," I said sincerely. "I am very lucky you are the person you are or my life would truly be dismal right now. I hope to someday feel as if I deserve your friendship. You take care of yourself, while I am gone."

The Queen gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and left me. I looked about my room, stripped of all that was familiar to me. My life was now in a heap in the middle of my floor and in a small valise sitting upon my bed. How my life had changed. Some for the better, some for the worse, but definitely changed.

_Eru, how tired I am!_

I shoved my valise over a bit and lay down on my bed. I did not even cover myself with my quilt, I just fell immediately into a dreamless sleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	17. Gifts and Goodbyes

Disclaimer:The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I awoke in the wee hours of the morning, still dressed in the same clothes I had collapsed in earlier in the evening. I unpinned my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders and brushed it vigorously. I did not have a tub in my room, so I took a bath every other day, in the tub in one of the private rooms in the wards. Yesterday morning, before going to work, I had availed myself of the tub, washing my hair as well as myself. So this morning, I just did a small tidy-up and dressed.

I dressed myself in my riding clothes, which consisted of leggings and a plain shirt, with a tunic on top of that. I had a feeling I would be shedding the tunic before too long in the day. The weather had warmed with the change of the season. I decided to go give tidings of my departure to whoever was on duty in the wards. Since it was practically the middle of the night, my dear, sweet Ioreth would be absent, thanks be.

I went into the Wards and walked down the aisle, searching for any sign of an aide. There were not many soldiers left in the wards recuperating from wounds of the war. Most of the patients were victims of mishaps or illness. The lamps were few, so the light was dim, allowing the men to sleep in relative darkness. No one was about, which was not unusual. When the wards were short on wounded or sick, and there was no one in serious condition, there was no point in an aid on the night watch staying awake. I surmised the one on duty would be in the closest empty room, asleep. Should a patient call out, or make noise in some manner, the open door would allow any sounds to alert the aid that their assistance was needed.

I took the time to check on the patients. There were only ten in the wards. I thanked Eru for keeping them safe and allowing them to live to see their lives completed, barring some other mishap. I did not go to them individually, I simply observed them from the main aisle as they slept. No one was overly restless, so I steadily moved down the aisle. I finally came to Darren. He had, as Elrond had predicted, started to rapidly improve after the Elven lord's visit. The infection was gone and now the wound was well into healing. I thanked Eru again, this time for frustrating Elven healers. It surprised me when Darren appeared to be observing me, as I was observing him.

"Mistress Maeren," Darren said quietly. "What are you doing about at this time of the night?"

Drawing myself up to look stern, I answered with my own question, "And what do you think you are doing awake, young man? You should be sleeping."

"How can I sleep, with you trudging up and down the aisles, waking me up?" he asked.

I smiled and sat on Darren's cot. "You got me, sir. I am defeated in this little war of words."

He smiled back at me. "You still did not answer my question," he said.

"I wanted to come and bid you goodbye, Darren," I replied. "I am going to study the healing arts with Lord Elrond. You remember him, do you not?"

"How could I forget an Elf lord?" he asked. "And the Queen's own father?"

"How indeed?" I answered. "I am going to miss you," I said sincerely. "With any luck, you will be gone from here next week. I know you are anxious to be at home."

"I surely am," he replied. "My wife comes to visit me every day, and everyone here is very nice, but there is still no place I would rather be than at home."

"My sentiments exactly." As I rose, I continued, "I am sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, heal well, and have a wonderful life from now on."

Darren rose up on one elbow and said, "Mistress Maeren, could you lean down here for a minute, there is something I have been wanting to tell you that I would rather no one else hear, even if most of the others seem to be asleep."

I leaned down, and Darren gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek. "I want to thank you for all you have done for me. Do not think I am unaware that most healers would have done away with my leg, instead of trying to heal it. You took extra time—much extra time—to tend only to me. I will always be grateful to you. You know not how grateful."

I could feel my eyes mist up, but I told them to be still. No more crying unless I was under great duress. This almost counted, but not as duress. I was extremely touched by Darren's thanks. What he said was true. Most healers would have amputated Darren's limb. It was so badly hurt. As it was, he would have a limp for the rest of his life, but he would have his leg, and that was everything to a man who is a soldier of the guard in Minis Tirith.

"You are very sweet for saying that, Darren," I said. "Now, go back to sleep. I will always remember you, sir. Such a handsome rascal!" Darren was probably my same age, but he was pleased when I called him sir, or young man. And he had needed things to bolster his spirits during his long stay in the Houses of Healing.

He laughed quietly and lay back down. I gave him a slight wave as I walked back down the aisle the way I had come. I went into my office and got ink and paper, to leave a note. I was not going to wake up the aid on duty to do a lot of explaining.

In the letter, I simply told them where I was going. I decided to enhance the story Arwen had given me as my cover. It would not do for any of the aids to see the Elven lord out in the city, while I had supposedly gone to his home to study with him. I wrote that Lord Elrond would not be leaving Minas Tirith for a month or so. I and a friend—Gimli, I was referring to, though I did not name him—were going first to Rohan, for my friend had always wanted to visit the Glittering Caves. I also told them that the invitation to study—and my acceptance—was sudden, thus the short notice I was giving them. I wrote them a final goodbye. I would probably go back to Edoras after my schooling. I thanked them all for their service. This was hard to do, especially to Ioreth, for while they had come around somewhat in the end, they had made my life miserable for the most part. I told them that I hoped for them a grand future. Short and sweet and to the point. And done. I rose and took the note to the desk in the wards, knowing someone would see it first thing.

As I turned from placing the note on the desk, I heard a noise. Someone had opened the outer door to the Houses of Healing, coming in from the street. That had not ever bothered me before, but prior to now I had never received any death threats. It was still at least an hour before dawn. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. The footfalls of the visitor were soft, but he was not trying to be stealthy. He would have taken greater care keeping his arrival quiet in that case. I stood transfixed, unable to move. I heard the footsteps continue past the door to the wards, and surmised that whoever it was, must be going to visit me. _Thanks be, I am in here._

Remaining still, I listened and heard soft knocking upon my door down the hallway. A few moments later, the footsteps grew louder again, as the visitor came back up the hall and approached the door to the ward. I looked around for a weapon of some sort, but saw only a basin that lay upon the desk next to the note I had just placed there. I grabbed the basin, not knowing exactly what good it would do me, but needing something in my hands just the same. At the very least, I could throw it at an attacker, should it come to that. I watched the doorknob turn.

The door opened and I lifted the basin in my hand, ready to smash it into the head of whomever was invading the ward. I drew a deep breath, about to let out a blood-curdling scream, if someone should threaten me. Slowly, a head appeared around the door. It was Aragorn. I let my breath go in an audible gasp of relief and lowered the basin slowly. He raised an eyebrow and smiled. He crooked his finger at me, quietly signaling me to follow him out into the hallway.

As soon as I had the door to the ward closed quietly behind me, he said, "I wanted not to disturb those that are ill, but I need to speak with you. Could we go into your office, perhaps?"

I nodded and he followed as I led us into my office and closed the door. I was shaking, but I knew not if it was from the scare I just had, or my close proximity to the father of my child.

We both sat in our usual chairs, he across the desk from me and I in my old creaky one. I set the basin I had unintentionally kept in my hand upon the desk, then took a few deep breaths, trying to settle my nerves.

"I am sorry if I frightened you, Maeren," he said. "I should have thought of Glosten and your concerns about his threat, but I did not. I apologize again."

"That is all right," I replied, finding my voice at last. "What have you come here for, Aragorn?" I asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

He sat back and slid down, until his head was resting on the back of the chair. He was obviously not dressed for his day as King. He was clad plainly, not in his velvets and brocades. He looked more as he did when I first met him, only cleaner and better smelling. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his hands, clasping his fingers together.

_Make yourself at home, my King, and take all the time you wish._

He finally began to speak. "I wanted to make sure all was right with you before you left," he said. "Since you seem loath to be in my company, especially with others present, I decided to seek you out now."

I nodded and then said, "There was no need, as you can see. I am perfectly fine and am ready to leave."

"Yes I can see that," he said. "I wanted to make sure you are prepared for the journey you are about to undertake. I have had Gimli and Legolas stow a few things on a packhorse that may ease your trip somewhat. I knew not how much experience you have in traveling in the wild."

"I have no experience in it," I replied. "The only journey I have ever taken was the one from Edoras to here, so I am quite inexperienced. However, I know Gimli quite well by now, and I know he will help me should I need assistance. I am unworried about any problems I may encounter."

"That is exactly what I feared," Aragorn said with a frown. Sitting up in his chair, he continued, "I fear you are complacent. There are many dangers out there, and while it is true that you have two of the finest warriors traveling with you, you still need to be on your guard. All members of a traveling party must keep vigilance. Even now that Sauron has been defeated, there are still Orcs and other menaces about the countryside. You must be cautious."

"I had planned to be, Aragorn," I said with obvious rancor. "Although I am not well-traveled, I am capable of sensing trouble. I admit I am not much for weapons, but I can use a dagger if need be."

"I am glad to hear you say that," he returned. "I feared you may only be schooled in the wielding of basins as a fighting technique." He smiled, pointing at the basin sitting on my desk and I smiled back at him. He then continued, "I have a gift for you." He leaned forward in his chair and reached toward the floor. He pulled a knife from his boot, and then pursed his lips, reaching back down again to retrieve the sheath the knife was supposed to be encased in. Placing the knife back into its leather sheath, he handed both to me.

I took the proffered weapon. It was warm from being next to his leg. I examined it, removing it partially from its case and then pushed it back in. "I have my own, you know," I said. "I really have no need of this."

"Nevertheless, I wish for you to have it," he replied. "As I said, it is a gift."

"All right," I said. I was wishing for this little audience with the King to be finished. "Was there anything else?"

He bent forward, putting his elbows on his knees. _He was now in that parental pose that I loved so much._ _I am so sarcastic, am I not?_

"I felt our parting in the Citadel last evening was a bit too abrupt for my liking," he said. "I wanted to give you that knife, and— " He paused, seeming to search for words. "I really know not why I am here. I just knew I had to come and see you before you left. Our relationship—or lack thereof—is strange, to say the least. I know not how I feel about you, Maeren." He paused for a few minutes; his eyes trained on my face, as if judging the effect his words may have on me. He finally began speaking again. "I hope not to tread on your feelings by saying this, but I do not wish to give you the impression that I am in love with you. There is a place in my heart in which I hold you dear. Perhaps it is only that you carry my child within you. I do not rightly know. But for whatever reason, I feel close to you. I care for you very much. I worry for you and for the child."

I was dazed. I needed not this 'confession' if it indeed was one. He was right when he said our relationship was strange. I felt the same. I did not love him, but I did have feelings for him. He was dear to me, also. But Arwen was becoming dear to me, and I had caused her enough hurt already. I had chosen, thus far, to push any feelings I may have harbored for Aragorn away. And that was where they were going to stay.

"Now it is I who know not what to say," I replied. "I hold you dear, as well. But as you have just told me, I am not in love with you. I think I will never be in love again. I loved my Dustin too well."

"I love Arwen in the same way," he said. "I will never love another as I love her, nor will I ever be unfaithful to her again. I wish I had not been before. It grieves me now." As Aragorn spoke, he had a look on his face that told me he spoke not only truly, but also with all his heart.

I did not know what else to say, and I wished not to engage in a staring contest with the King. I rose from my chair and went around my desk to stand beside him. He had risen when I had and we now stood facing one another. It seemed a staring contest was inevitable, no matter what I wished. He had an almost wistful look on his face. Even in the bedraggled and weary state he was in when I first met him, he did not look as old and tired as he did now. A part of me wished to give him comfort, for in my heart, I knew he was wishing his child was not traveling across the countryside. He was wishing that his child would not be born without him by its mother's side. He was wishing I was not the baby's mother and that Arwen was.

I know not how long we stood there, looking into each other's eyes, but he finally sighed and broke the trance. He gave me a half smile and bent and kissed my cheek.

"Please take care of yourself and the little bundle you carry," he said solemnly, letting his eyes flicker toward my belly.

"I will," I replied. "Have no fear, our little bundle is safe with me."

He dipped his head in farewell and left me standing there—little bundle and all.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I stood there in shock for a few moments. I wanted to feel nothing for Aragorn. I wished, as he did, that none of this had ever taken place. Why had he not just stayed away from me this morning? Why?

I truly believed it was just as I claimed: I held Aragorn dear, for whatever reason, I knew not. We had shared ourselves with each other. We had been joined as one. We had created life. But it was not _we_. It was _me_, and it was _him_. There was no _we_.

I suppose on some level, I wish there was a _we_. That would certainly lessen the number of problems I now faced. I cannot imagine, however, being married to him. He irritates me in so many ways. His parental air when he speaks to me at times irks me greatly. Being around him makes me tense, like a shy, young maiden out with a man for the first time. Is it guilt over my betrayal of Arwen that makes me so tense? That has to be it. I know I am not in love with the man. I know it. _Don't I? _

Yes, I do know it. My Dustin was the only man for me. I knew it when I married him and I know it now. He did not talk down to me as Aragorn does. He did not doubt my capabilities when I said I could do something. And if I failed, he never shamed me about it. He was my rock and with him in my life, I felt invincible. I missed him deep within myself, in depths I dared not explore, for fear I may finally lose myself in them. I wished for him to be here now. I would not be in this mess if he was, and my Tristin would be here with me, where he belonged.

I finally remembered myself and what I was about this morning. I knew it was probably approaching sunrise. As I hurriedly exited my office, I glanced down the hall before I turned to walk to my room. There came an Elf, walking toward me. I did not know him, of this I was sure. He smiled as he approached me. He was adorable, if you can call a grown male such. He was very tall, like most Elves seemed to be, and blond as Legolas was. But while I had called him adorable, it was his smile that made him so. He was in no way feminine; that was apparent from the first. Where Legolas was pretty, this Elf was handsome—very.

"I was sent to see if you were ready, and if not, when you might be," he said. As an afterthought, he added, "I am Kellen, of Lothlorien—the Golden Wood. Someone was supposed to inform you of your time of departure last night, but sometimes confusion reigns and it was not done. You have my deepest apology." His voice was light and musical—merry, if I were to put a name to it. If only I could use merry to describe Legolas, then this journey before me may not seem so dreadful.

"No apology necessary," I said. "My name is Maeren of Rohan. It is my pleasure to meet you. All I must do is get my things and then I will be as ready as I am ever apt to be."

We walked the rest of the way down the hall to my room. I turned the silent doorknob and entered. My valise, my bedroll, and my _cousin_ were in the middle of my small table. _My cousin needs a name. What shall I call him? Jonas. Yes, I dub thee Jonas the Skull. _I had interred Jonas in a pillowslip, tied in a knot to prevent his escape. The skull made quite an interesting article, all rounded and shrouded in a pillowslip. _I will have fun with this, Arwen. I promise you, I will._

Kellen insisted on carrying all of my gear—even Jonas_. _Taking a last wistful look around, I checked to make sure I had all the things I planned to take with me. Satisfied, I followed Kellen down the hall and out the door of the Houses of Healing for the last time. I did not look back. That part of my life was now over and there was no use pining about it. I would be able to learn methods of healing I had never even dreamed of from Elrond in Rivendell. This would be an experience of a lifetime, in more ways than one.

Kellen steered me toward the Citadel, in the seventh circle of Minas Tirith. A crowd of men, women and Elves was gathered at the Place of the Fountain, beneath the White Tree of Gondor. Faramir was there, as well as Eowyn, and they both hugged me in farewell. Faramir whispered in my ear well wishes and a safe trip. I thanked him. I wanted to throw myself into his arms. I felt safe there, but knew it would not be proper.

Elrond was in attendance, as well as both of his sons, Elladan and Elrohir. I was reintroduced to them, but still could not keep them straight. When I asked which was Elladan, they each pointed to the other. _This was going to be a fun trip, of that I was sure. _

The King and Queen were also there, standing together, each holding the other's hand. Arwen came forward, hugging me.

"Do you remember all the lessons I taught you?" she asked, whispering directly into my ear. I could tell she was taking no chances of being overheard with the Elven ears present here this morning. I nodded. She asked if I had my cousin with me, and I answered by pointing to Jonas, who was settled safely against my valise on the ground at my feet. Arwen snickered into her hand, gave me one last hug, and then it was time for me to get atop my horse and be gone, with Gimli—and Legolas. Now to find the horse I was to ride.

I was startled when someone touched my arm. It was Eomer. I said nothing, I merely walked into his arms and he held me close. He put his arm around my shoulders and led me a short distance away from the crowd. It was then that I noticed that walking beside him was a horse he had being leading quietly by the reins.

"Dorulas left a bequest to you, Maeren," Eomer said, as he held the reins of the horse out to me. There were tears in his eyes, but I knew they would not be shed in public. He was a King and a very proud man as well.

Dorulas was a woman who was a good friend to Eomer. He had known her for many years and thought a great deal of her. Several months ago, I had treated her in the Houses of Healing. She had received news that caused her such grief, she had needed sedation. The man in her life, Lord Boromir, Denethor's son and Faramir's brother, had been slain. She told me in confidence that she had been wife to him in all things but name, and she loved him with all her heart. Faramir had brought her to the Wards after she had collapsed when he gave her the dreadful news. She had been in the Houses of Healing for almost four days.

Our second meeting took place after she was mortally wounded by a poisoned blade on the streets of Minas Tirith one morning. It was a slow acting poison, Blackroot Oil, and she lingered for a day before passing from life in her sleep. Evidently she thought me a friend, to give me such a gift as one of her mares. I felt like weeping myself. I had quickly grown attached to the independent woman who was Doralus, Daughter of Holdor.

I looked at the mare Dorulas had bequeathed to me. She was a beautiful deep black, her coat shining brightly with good health. She was saddled and ready for me to ride. I turned to Eomer and said, "Such a wonderful gift! Does she have a name?"

"If she does, I know it not," Eomer replied.

"Do you think Dorulas would mind were I to call her Dori?" I asked. "It seems almost an irreverent thing, to name a horse after a lady, but I would do it in tribute, not disdain."

Eomer smiled and chuckled. "I think she would be honored. She held her mares in more esteem than she did many people!"

Eomer put the reins in my hands. He looked at me solemnly and said, "Aragorn spoke to me of the reason you are leaving Gondor."

I gasped and closed my eyes, shame shooting through my heart. "I wish he could keep some things to himself," I said angrily. I was having trouble keeping my breathing even. I really did not want to weep.

Eomer pulled me to his chest once more, and it was all I could do to keep my tears at bay. _Why did Aragorn insist in doing these things? Did he truly wish to hurt me?_

Without releasing me, Eomer whispered into my ear, "I am glad that he told me, Maeren. I wish you would have trusted me enough to hear you and keep your secret."

"It wasn't that, Eomer— " I said.

"Hush now, healer. Your King is speaking to you," he said. I gave a little half laugh. He continued, "Why not come back to Edoras? We will think of something to tell people, even though it is no one's concern other than yours. I will help you. You know that I will."

I couldn't help the tears now. What a sweet man, was the King of Rohan. I gathered myself together and stood away from him a bit, looking down at my feet. Shame seemed to roll off of me in torrents and I could not look the King in the face. "Thank you, Eomer," I said, "but I cannot do that. I have never been good at telling falsehoods and I will not bring shame to my father."

Eomer placed his fingers under my chin and raised my face so he could look into my eyes. "You have made up your mind?" he asked. At my nod, he said, "You know you can always change it and come home with me to Edoras."

"Thank you, Eomer," I said sadly. "You know there is nowhere I would rather be than at home with my family, but I just cannot do it. It scares me to go so far away, to a foreign place, with people I know not. But I have done this thing and I must be responsible for it. This is the right thing to do, even if it is not what I wish."

Eomer gave me a small kiss on the forehead and turned me back toward the crowd still standing around the White Tree of Gondor. With his arm around my shoulders, he led me and my new mare back amidst the milling crowd. He held Dori's head while I mounted and then handed me the reins.

"May the Valar guard you and your precious cargo on your journey," Eomer said. He gave my leg a pat and walked away. I wanted so badly to follow him and go home where I truly belonged. But I must do what I had to do. As my father always told us, I had committed the sin, now I must mop up after myself.

It appeared that Legolas and Gimli would ride together on one horse. There was no saddle, but there were reins. _Interesting._ Legolas held the reins and Gimli sat behind him. Another mare was laden with provisions, as well as the bedrolls and baggage, what little there was of it. She was a tall, slender gray, and possessed a refined air, if such could describe a horse. _Must be of Elvish breeding_. The horse had no rein, nor any guide rope at all. A halter is all the tack that she wore. I wondered at this, but since there were Elves involved, I decided to keep my curiosity to myself. I would probably learn what I needed to know on this trip by keeping my ears open and my curiosity in check—and my mouth closed. _That would be a challenge, to be sure._

It was nearing the time of our departure. We were all three upon our horses, and Legolas was conversing in Elvish with Elladan—or was it Elrohir? No matter, it was one of the twins. Legolas made what he thought was a covert glance in my direction, and laughed. I could feel my anger rising. _Calm yourself. There are too many days between here and Rivendell to already be at odds with that blasted Elf!_ I gave a pat to Jonas. He would help me set that Elf straight.

I could not help but smile.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

A/N: The woman, Dorulas, who bequeathed the horse to Maeren, could once be found in a great story entitled **Misericorde, **by Blue Iris. This story was about a spy working for Gondor, and her life from the beginning of her career to the end. It was a unique story, told from the perspective of a woman whose loyalty to her city and country knows no bounds. A very unique viewpoint, to say the least. But the author took it down, and unless it is now under a different name with a different author name, it is no longer on this site. Our loss, I assure you.


	18. Musings and Melancholy

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belong to JRR Tolkien.

**A/N: Just a quick note before you start reading this chapter. Believe me when I tell you, Legolas will not continue to be a stinker for the whole trip. He does get pretty spiteful, but eventually you will understand why he reacts as he does to Maeren, and why she reacts the way she does to him. I know some of you would not take it well if I made the Elf mean. And besides, that would be totally OOC.**

We hadn't ridden far from Minas Tirith, when I knew I was in trouble. For a few hours now, my stomach was going through its usual ups and downs—and the up and down motion of being on horseback was not helping matters any. I was feeling very nauseous and tried desperately to will my belly to settle down. I sought distraction by trying to think of something else. That was not working, so finally, I had to pull Dori to a halt and jump from her back to be sick at the side of the road. Even though I had been nauseous for hours, the urge to retch came upon me quite suddenly, so I had no choice but to let it fly in front of Eru and everybody!

I wiped my mouth on a hanky I had tucked in my pocket. Miracle of miracles, I had finally remembered to bring one with me, although this was not the use for it that I had intended. I returned to my mare to retrieve my water skin and rinsed my mouth, then spit in a very unladylike fashion on the ground. Oh well, retching in front of everyone was worse than spitting, I suppose. I finally returned to my horse and settled myself in the saddle once more. Legolas and Gimli had apparently witnessed my folly and decided it was not a show they wished to attend. They had gone slowly ahead. I gently heeled Dori to a slow walk, until we drew even with my companions.

"Are you all right, Maeren?" Gimli asked when I caught up with them.

"Yes, Gimli," I replied. "I am sorry for subjecting you both to that little scene."

"I would appreciate you not doing it again," Legolas said, with a sickened look on his face. "It was a most disgusting sight and the aroma was— "

Gimli shushed him with a cuff in the ribs, and a sibilate Dwarvish curse before Legolas could complete his sentence.

I must have turned all shades of red. My dislike for the Elf was beginning to know no bounds. However, I was determined that I would not be made miserable by Legolas during this whole journey. _For goodness sake, we'd only been gone for four hours._

In spite of my growing ire, I answered him lightly. "I am afraid I must blame the baby for this. I retch only because of my condition."

"How can you blame an innocent baby for your lustful nature?" he asked, his expression stony.

I saw Gimli grimace in frustration or anger, I could not tell which.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, and when that didn't help, I let loose with several Rohirric curses in my mind. I could not believe he had said that! I patted Dori and kicked her up to a canter, leaving the son of an Orc behind. I would not cry. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing how much he had hurt and embarrassed me.

As soon as there was enough distance between me and my nemesis, I slowed Dori to a walk. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm myself. It wasn't long before Gimli and _his friend _were back riding beside me. I stared straight ahead, looking at neither of them. Had I opened my mouth to speak, I would have cursed at the Elf, and I could not see how debasing myself more than he already had would help this situation.

We rode in this fashion until well into the afternoon. We did not stop for a noon repast. I cared not anyway. I was too angry to eat. Besides, it would just come back up, if I forced it down. I was drinking plenty of water, so it wasn't as if there was nothing at all in my stomach.

Even though I was in no danger from starving to death, I was in danger of tumbling from Dori's back. I was falling asleep in the saddle. I had hardly slept last night and had been going strong since well before dawn. I had slept some the day before, and last evening, but I had been exhausted then and my exhaustion was returning. I tried to keep my mind busy. I began thinking of various ways I would enjoy seeing Legolas tortured, with me being the torturer. There was nothing really serious among the torments I wished to visit upon him. Merely things like tying him to a chair before a mirror and then cutting his long hair. I would then force him to look at his short golden glory for hours on end. Or perhaps I may trip him after a rain shower, thus making him fall into the mud, face first. _That would be a shock to his pretty self, would it not?_

I laughed to myself, then quickly put my fingers to my lips. I had accidentally laughed out loud. The sights in my mind's eye were truly funny—at least to me.

"What is so funny, lady?" Legolas asked.

Turning to look at him, I laughed again, remembering his short hair and muddy face. "You truly do not want to know," I replied, still smiling. I actually thought momentarily about telling him anyway, but I shook my head, thinking better of it. "No, you certainly would not want to know."

"Well, I would like to know," said Gimli. "Being caught between the two of you, I find I could use a good laugh."

"Gimli," I said, "in light of your comment, it would be best if I left unsaid what I was thinking."

"If it will add to the friction between you and this Elf," he said, "then I will bow to your counsel in this." Gimli stole a look at the side of Legolas' head and then turned back to look at me. Sighing, he said, "I hope the two of you will call a truce, for it seems as if there is a battle brewing here, and I wish not to be caught in the middle of another war, if you don't mind. Although I enjoyed the sound of my axe ringing as it cleaved Orc necks, I have had enough of war at the present. I do not need the two of you forcing me into another so soon."

Legolas frowned, but did not comment. I almost laughed again. When the Elf scowled as he was doing, his face took on the appearance of an eagle. _Valar! Was I ever in trouble! I now had the vision in my mind of an angry eagle with short blond hair and mud on its scowling face._ I could not help myself—I burst out laughing. Again, I kicked Dori up to a fast canter. If Legolas scowled any more intensely, I was afraid I would have to add a beak to the list of his imagined features.

_Well, I may have made Legolas angrier with me than he was before, but at least I was no longer in danger of falling asleep in my saddle._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

It was late afternoon, but still a few hours till sunset, when Legolas called a halt for the day. I have to be honest—my posterior was unused to the abuse this saddle had inflicted on it. I wasn't in dire straits, but I grimaced as I wondered how tomorrow's ride would be. I would not pad my saddle. There was not even a slim chance that I would give Legolas any ammunition with which to assail me.

We set about making our camp. Legolas began building a fire while Gimli removed the tack from the horses and the baggage from the pack horse. He then went looking for the stream that we could hear running nearby, to fill the water skins we had drained during the day. I had set about finding wood for the fire. In my weariness, I didn't see a fallen branch that was hidden beneath some tall grass and I tripped. In the process of catching myself with my hands, I jammed my finger into the ground. The pain was excruciating. I stood up and before dusting myself off, I surveyed the damage to my hand.

I was appalled. I had dislocated the little finger on my left hand. I hated to do it, but I was going to have to ask Legolas to help me put it back into place. I walked back to the clearing where we were making our camp, holding my left hand with my right. I went over to where Legolas was crouched and he didn't even look up at my approach.

"Legolas," I said in a pained voice, "I have dislocated one of my fingers. Would you help me snap it back into place?"

He stood and took my hand in his. He peered at it for a few moments—a few excruciating moments. A dislocated joint is very painful. After a short perusal, he looked at me and said, "It is not that bad. You can do it yourself. I have done this a thousand times. You should have no problem. After all, you are a healer."

I stared at him in disbelief, then said with sarcasm, "You're right. I can do this myself. I wonder why _I _did not think of that? Perhaps because my mind was clouded with _pain_. Yes, that is probably why."

I walked away. Valar I didn't want to do this, but it was either put my finger to rights myself or suffer until Gimli returned. I wanted to do neither, but decided it was not worth the pain to wait. Bracing myself, I did what I had to do, quickly pulling the end of my finger until, hopefully, the joint snapped back into place. However, it did not cooperate and remained misaligned. I thought I would be sick from the pain of it, but I tried once more—and failed once more. I was almost crying with the agony of it, but there was nothing to do for it but wait for Gimli to return. After I had made yet a third attempt myself, Gimli came back to the campsite with three full water skins in tow. He immediately saw my pain and hurried over to where I stood. It took him only seconds to assess the situation. He took my hand in his and performed the operation with one swift gentle jerk. I breathed a sigh of relief. The minute my finger was back to rights, it had begun to feel somewhat better. After a few more minutes, the torment had eased quite a bit. I knew it would start to feel much better now. It may swell and be a little sore, but it would not hamper me much if at all. _And I thought I could not dislike Legolas any more than I did. I was wrong._

As soon as Gimli made sure I was feeling better, he walked determinedly to where Legolas was busy doing something that I could not see and did not care about anyway. Gimli did not try to speak softly and I could tell he was a little angry that Legolas had done nothing to ease my pain.

"Legolas," Gimli said, "why did you not help Maeren? It was plain to see she was hurt."

"Truthfully, Gimli," Legolas answered, "I did not think it that serious. I believed she could do it herself, since she is such a wonderful healer." He did not say it sarcastically, but I knew how he meant the remark.

"Are you saying," Gimli asked skeptically, "that there was no malice in your neglect of her?"

"There was no malice," Legolas said with ease. "She has made no secret of her dislike of me and I wished not to anger her yet again. Since the injury was minor, I took no chances of incurring her wrath."

Well, there I had it. He knew how I felt about him, whether from my actions or from others informing him, I knew not. Perhaps it was a combination of both. There were at least three people who, at different times, had the opportunity to tell him what I thought of him. Some of my words and deeds had clearly shown I did not hold him in much esteem, and I had not been subtle in showing my contempt of him. This was especially true, after some of the ill-mannered remarks he had made today. However, in my defense, he had been very cruel in some of his comments and this latest spitefulness certainly did not raise my opinion of him. I couldn't help but believe that his odious conduct was caused by something more than simple teasing others may have visited upon him because of something I might have said.

I began searching through my saddlebags and found a brush with which to groom the mare. I wondered if Eomer was responsible for including grooming tools for Dori, or if they came as a package with my bequest. Gimli eyed me skeptically when he saw what I intended to do, and said, "Maeren, are you sure you should be doing that? Your hand must hurt. Why not allow me to do this for you?"

"Thank you for offering, Gimli," I said, "but I would really like to do this myself if I can. It is very relaxing to me, and Eru knows, I need some relaxation. If I find I cannot do it without too much pain, I will gladly take you up on your offer."

I was pleased to have the opportunity to take care of the mare. She was sweet natured and very easy to make friends with. Dori's coat shone with health and vitality. I figured her to be about four years old. She was such a lustrous black—a true black, without any brown in her coat at all. So black, she almost looked blue in the sunshine. A truly beautiful animal. She was fairly tall—at least sixteen hands. It was almost more than I could do to place my foot in the stirrup to pull myself up into the saddle. I could see why Dorulas held her in such esteem.

Thinking of Dorulas made me think of Eomer again. I felt a sudden and painful stab of homesickness. Not for my home in Minas Tirith - that had never truly been my home. How I wished I could have accepted Eomer's offer this morning, of returning to Rohan with him. I wanted to see Edoras again. I wanted to see my father and my brothers. I had a deep longing to see the golden grass blowing in the ever present breeze that swept my homeland. Home. How I missed it.

I continued to brush Dori and to think about my home and family back in Rohan. I thought about how the war must have changed everything there. Eomer was now King. Theodon and his son, Theodred, were now gone. Eomer was King of Rohan, a title he richly deserved, if my opinion counted for anything. However, Eomer was now bereft of any close kin, save for his sister. Yes, he still had Eowyn, but she was betrothed to Faramir and would be living with him in Minas Tirith ere long. It seemed as if Eomer and I were destined to be alone. No, Eomer would find a sweet woman who would love him fiercely. Any woman in her right mind would love Eomer with passion. I had no knowledge of Eomer's desires, but just by gazing upon him, a woman could tell he was virile to the extreme. Yes, he would love a woman fiercely and expect her to respond in a like manner.

No, Eomer would not be alone, but it seemed as if I was destined to be. I'd had my chance at love and it was wonderful while it lasted. I knew that I would never feel for another, the love I had felt for my Dustin.

We married quite young, and as I grew older, I was happy for that fact. Had we waited until a later time, it would have looked as if I had pilfered a cradle. He hated the fact that he looked so young. If one did not know him, they may have thought him still a lad. I can still see the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled. His eyes were the bluest blue—like the sky of a summer's day. The way he drew his brows together in a frown at some displeasure he felt, reminded me of a wild hawk. His soft, sandy blond hair he kept swept from his face with low, thick braids that twined together on the back of his head.

He was one of a kind and I missed him every day. He did so many little things for me. He would sometimes bring me bouquets of flowers when they bloomed on the range in the Spring. On the rare occasions when I slept later than usual, he would have Tristin join him in making a breakfast for me. If I slept late enough, they would even bring it to me in bed. Occasionally, after spending long hours at work in the stables or fields with the horses, he would sometimes come home, and massage my aching shoulders, kissing my neck as he did so. That usually set my blood on fire, and—if Tristin was already abed, or otherwise occupied outside—Dustin would quench the flame he had so expertly set. In retrospect, perhaps he had his own best interests at heart, instead of mine. He could be very devious, so I did not put it past him to feign giving comfort to me, all the while seeking comfort for himself._ How I missed him._

I thought about my father and brothers. I did not even know if they had survived the war. I wondered how I would find out now. Perhaps sometime soon, after I was settled, and Elrond was back in Imladris, I could ask if someone could be sent to inquire about my family. I was ashamed for not thinking of this before now. I should have tried to find out right after the war ended, but I had been too wrapped up in my own misery to think of anyone else. I hoped against hope that they were all well. I knew not what I would do if I lost any one of them. It did not bear thinking about.

I spent a good half hour tending to my new mare. She really hadn't needed that much brushing, but it felt good to have my hands on a horse once again. I could hardly believe she was mine. Living in Rohan, I was surrounded by good quality horses, but I had never actually owned one of my own—and Dori was a horse anyone would be proud to own.

I set Dorie out on a picket to graze and realized that the sun was very low on the horizon. My stomach was growling, I was so hungry, but my fatigue rivaled it for my attention. I made my way toward the fire and offered to help get our meal together. I was surprised to find a couple of rabbits already on spits over the fire, roasting. In fact, by the look and aroma of things, they were just about done. I asked whoever would listen if I could be of any assistance. Gimli invited me to sit down, and he handed me what I thought was a water skin. However, it turned out to contain a wonderful malt beer. I had not imbibed in any good brew since leaving Edoras and it was a welcome drink. I vaguely wondered how it would keep its foam, but watching Gimli drink it with relish, I had my answer—it would not be around long enough to go flat. I, myself, only had two swallows. I most likely had not the tolerance to it I once did and I hadn't eaten all day. It was bound to hit me hard, if I wasn't careful, and I was already inclined to lay down where I sat and fall instantly into a dead sleep.

I silently wondered how the rabbits came to be spitted and roasting, without me not even being aware that anyone was gone. I surmised it must have been the Elf of our party. As Arwen had warned me, he moved about without any sound, unless he wanted to be heard. How he accomplished bagging one rabbit, much less two, in less than half an hour, was beyond me. He must have a great deal of talent with that bow of his. He never seemed to be without it, except when we were riding. However, I noticed that both his knives, and Gimli's axe, were within easy access to each of them as we rode, in case we encountered any trouble while on our journey.

I sat in front of the fire on my bedroll, still rolled up to keep it somewhat clean. I was gazing at the fire, thinking about nothing in particular, trying to remain awake. Gimli sat next to me and Legolas squatted to retrieve the rabbits from the spits. He lay the charred bodies on a bed of leaves he had collected, and commenced to slice pieces of meat from the rabbits with practiced deftness. He speared a large piece on a sharp stick he had beside him atop the leaves and handed it to me. I thanked him. Nicely. He then handed the rest of the animal, still on the stick on which it had been roasted, to Gimli, who tore into it with gusto. I had never seen Gimli eat before and it was a sight indeed. I wanted to move away, lest he get some of his meal on me, the way it was flying into and around his mouth. He did not stop in his devouring of the meat until all he had left was bones and the stick it had been pierced with. He then let out a resounding belch and rubbed his stomach.

In contrast, Legolas ate quietly and neatly. No sound came from him, hardly even when he chewed. I cast a glance or two at him and saw that he would, from time to time, look up at Gimli and smile, shaking his head at the Dwarf's hearty appetite.

As soon as I was finished with my meal, I asked Legolas quietly if there was anything I could do to help with cleaning up, or to set the camp for the night. He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes, as if he wondered if I may be making fun of him in some way. He saw that I was not, but still shook his head. He did not speak, but I got the message that I was not needed now—if I would ever be.

That being the case, I made my way into the trees somewhat, for I had some urgent needs to attend to. As soon as I was relieved, so to speak, I strolled down to the stream. It wasn't far from our campsite, and I could hear my companions as they conversed amiably by the fireside. I had Aragorn's dagger tucked in my belt, which was covered by my tunic. It was a bit cumbersome, but I knew I could get used to it sooner or later. I remembered what Aragorn had said to me about all members of a traveling party needing to be on their guard. I felt as if I was being careful, so I sat down gingerly by the bank of the stream. Without doubt, I would be sore from all the riding I had done today. I may have to rethink my position on riding without padding. No bit of pride was worth having my rear be tortured, just to spite an Elf.

The moon was pretty tonight, almost full. In just a few days, it would rise in all its glory, appearing much larger than normal and a rich orange. I was looking forward to it and I hoped the weather would not be cloudy. The stars were also shining brightly tonight. Their reflections upon the surface of the stream brought to mind millions of tiny diamonds flowing along the top of the water, glittering as they floated past me. It was so peaceful, being out here in the wild. I did not feel fear. I hoped I was not being complacent, as Aragorn had advised me against. I was so close to the campsite, I knew I was not being foolish—being out here alone. And it was so calming. I needed that, after all of my little skirmishes with Legolas today. I wish I could get along with him, but the sight of him just irks me. I resolved to cease thinking about him or the calmness of the night would be all for naught.

It was growing somewhat cool, so I rose and retreated back toward the campsite. I was sorry to be leaving the peaceful stream, but I was very tired of a sudden and needed to get myself to sleep. Tomorrow would come all too soon. Along with the rising of the sun, would be my rising into the saddle again. I was not looking forward to that right now. I was becoming noticeably stiff.

I suddenly perceived a figure walking directly in front of me, several feet ahead. It was Legolas. _What in Eru's name had he been doing—spying on me? _I began stomping faster, trying to catch up with him, but he was too quick. When I broke through the trees into the clearing, he was sitting by the fire, not the least bit out of breath.

"Legolas," I said with annoyance, "were you following me? And if you were, why were you doing so?" My indignation was clear in the tone of my voice.

"Yes," he replied without so much as a bit of shame. "I was following you. It was not by my choice, but Gimli, as you can see, is already abed for the night and it was up to me to keep an eye on you."

"And why, exactly, was it up to anyone to be keeping their eye on me?" I asked, my indignation quickly turning into anger.

"By orders of Aragorn, do we keep you in our sight at all times," he said. "He wants nothing to happen to his child."

"So, the King ordered this, did he?" I asked. I was angry now. No, it was more like livid. "Well, I give you my orders to _stop doing it_, do you hear me?" I was yelling now and Gimli sat up suddenly. I paced around the fire for a few steps, then stopped. "I need not his concern. While I am no warrior, I do not need _or want _anyone dogging my footsteps day and night. His interference in my life makes me sick!" I was in a full blown rant now and I was not finished venting my frustration. I looked at Gimli, who was rubbing one eye and shaking the sleep out of his head. "Gimli," I said, "is what Legolas saying true? Did Aragorn order I not be left alone?"

Gimli closed his eyes and grimaced. "Yes, Maeren, Aragorn ordered it. You are not to be left alone—ever—during this journey."

My jaw dropped at the unfairness of it all. Tears of rage were building behind my eyes. How could Aragorn do such a thing? I was not a child, unable to even see to my toilet alone. How I wished not to weep. _Too late—my tears were already falling._

I sat down hard on my bedroll, which was still rolled up by the fire where I had left it earlier. I drew my knees up and placed my elbows on them, covering my face with my hands. I tried to be quiet as I wept, but I could not help the sound of muffled sobbing escaping the barrier of my hands. Somewhere in my mind was the thought that I must seem childish, indeed. Throwing a temper tantrum was not usually my style, but a woman could only take so much stress without breaking under it as some point. It seems as if I had reached that point.

Gimli approached the fire. I could tell it was him. His footsteps were much louder than Legolas'. Besides, I figured Gimli would seek to comfort me, while I knew such an idea would never occur to the Elf. But I was having none of it. Gimli had been a friend to me, through thick and thin, but I could not let go of my anger at Aragorn just yet. When Gimli touched me on the shoulder, I flinched away from him and asked him to just leave me be.

I crossed my arms and placed them on my knees, resting my forehead on them. I know not how long I sat there crying, but it was quite a long time, I suppose. I cried for the indignity of having my privacy breached. I cried because of all the spiteful words and actions of Legolas. I cried that I was even on this journey at all. I cursed myself for allowing Eomer to leave this morning without me by his side, and I wept with the knowledge that I was responsible for this whole thing. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—I could do about any of the restrictions placed upon me. I was going to a place completely alien to me, with at least one person who held me in contempt. I was without my father, who I needed very badly. I needed to know I was loved. Even if he knew of my shameful conduct, he would love me still. I wanted to scream with anger and rage—even after all this time—at the injustice of having my husband and son ripped from my grasp, leaving me alone and despondent.

I finally lay down in the dirt where I sat. I was too weary to stay upright. I cried myself to sleep and had the same dream that I'd had before. I was in my garden, beneath the wishing tree, my arms tied fast against my body. There were snakes hissing and striking at my ankles. This time, however, there were people sitting around me, watching me as I wept. In my dream, I let my head fall to my chest in shame, for the whispers of those sitting there staring at me told of my disgrace.

I awoke with a start. It had been but a dream.

However, the dream was quickly becoming my reality.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	19. Resentments and Revelations

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I awoke the next morning, exactly where I had lay down the night before, by the now smoldering embers of the fire. My neck had a catch in it that would shoot pain through my spine whenever I moved my head in any direction. I had to be a pretty sight. My right cheek was plastered with caked on mud. I must have been drooling in my sleep. That was certainly a wonderful thought.

Someone had taken pity on me. I had a blanket draped across my body. Gimli had probably done that. I would have to apologize to him for being so hateful last night. I cannot believe that I had thrown such a fit.

I sat up and could feel the mud on my face begin to crumble and fall to the ground. My eyes felt five times too large for their sockets and my head ached. I blinked my eyelids, which felt as if they were coated with sand and were as dry as the deserts in Harad. _Oh woe is me!_

It was not quite dawn and the first shades of pink at sunrise were peeking above the horizon. I could hear Gimli snoring. I had no idea—nor did I care—where Legolas was or what he was doing. I wanted to move, but my body lacked the will. I sat there, slowly blinking the sand from my eyes and feeling the grit on my face flake away. _Another wonderful day in paradise._

I sat completely up and was surprised when my rear didn't hurt quite as badly as I had feared. My neck would make up for that nicely, that was for sure. I couldn't decide what to do first. Should I just sit here and wait for someone to verify that I did indeed live? Or should I attempt to stand and maybe go find relief in the brush? If I was to do the latter, I would need to summon an audience, just to satisfy the King—the hateful ass.

_I must not begin thinking about Aragorn's directives or I would start ranting again._

I heaved a long sigh and rose shakily. Confident that the Elf was somewhere near, guarding me from some foolishness I may do, I took myself into the trees and found a likely spot to drop my leggings. When I was finished with my business, I made my way down to the stream. I crouched at the edge and ran my hands through the water, which was very cold. I washed the remains of the mud pie off my face and rose to return to the camp. Once there, I rummaged through my pack and found some soap and clean clothes. I cared not who saw, I was going to bathe. If Eru be merciful, I just may drown and put myself out of my misery.

As soon as I was at the water's edge, I began to undress. First, I pulled the pins from my hair, placing them in the pocket of my tunic. I ran my fingers through my hair, working through the tangles as I snagged my fingers on them. I shrugged out of my tunic and removed my belt, along with the _Ass King's _knife. I removed my boots, shored up my nerve and took off the rest of my clothes. I was soon standing naked for all the world to see and I cared not. Let the whole of Middle Earth watch. I had no control over the eyes of those I traveled with, what did a few more observers matter?

I thought I would die, when I felt the coldness of the water on my feet, but I was going to swim. Throwing all caution to the wind, I plunged my whole body into the stream, ducking my head beneath the water. I came up sputtering, tilting my head back to keep my hair out of my eyes. As cold as the water was, it felt good. My eyelids were becoming wet enough to allow their smooth passage over my eyes. I ran my fingers over my face, making sure the mud was completely gone from my cheek. If I looked on the bright side, I could pretend that I was a highborn lady in Minas Tirith, one who lived in the seventh circle. I had just had my weekly mudpack, to keep my skin as smooth as a baby's behind. _What a load of manure that thought was_.

I scrubbed my skin until it was stinging from the cold and the roughness of the cloth I was using. After rubbing some of the soap through my hair, scratching my scalp and working up quite a lather, I dunked myself beneath the water again. I swam just a few strokes ahead, to make sure the soap stayed in the water and out of my eyes. I was shivering and my teeth were chattering by the time I made my way back to the bank. I quickly dried myself off with the one lonely towel I had brought with me, and dove into my clothes, seeking the warmth they would bring. I sat pulling on my boots and then stood. I felt better than I had before my bath—almost Human, truth be known. The nausea that assailed me at various times, night and day, was present as usual. I was almost to the point of being used to it. No, I do not think I could ever get used to retching. In fact, its unrelenting presence was becoming downright depressing. Carrying my dirty clothes and bathing items, I went back to camp.

Gimli was now up, smoking his pipe. I never understood how anyone could inhale smoke and find pleasure in the activity. It seemed stupid to me. Oh well, no matter. As long as I was not forced to do likewise, I suppose those who smoked could do as they pleased as well. My Elven friend was loading the packhorse. I draped my damp towel over a low branch and stowed my dirty clothes and such into a pack I had brought for that purpose. I took that pack, as well as my valise and the other items that had been stowed on the horse yesterday and placed them in a pile at Legolas' feet. I said nothing and neither did he. He picked them up and loaded the sweet horse down with them once again.

From somewhere—probably from one of the packs stowed on the extra horse—some cooking and eating utensils had been brought forth. There was sausage and some sliced potatoes in a skillet sizzling over the fire. For a moment, I thought it looked good. I was hungry. But just as I caught a whiff of the food, I had to make a dash into the brush. _Sick again_.

I emerged from the trees and sat down at the fire, after first retrieving my water skin. I drank the water and gave Gimli a woeful gaze. He looked back at me with sympathy.

"Gimli," I said, "I am sorry for my behavior last night. I was wrong to take it out on you."

"No harm done, lass," he replied. "I am sorry things are not to your liking. I know how I would feel if someone had ideas of taking over my life."

"You are very understanding, Gimli," I said. "Still, I acted as such a child. I hope you will both forgive me." By now, Legolas had joined us and I truthfully wanted to apologize to him also for taking my frustration with Aragorn out on him. I still had no affection for the Elf, but even he didn't deserve what I dished out last night.

While the other two ate, I put a pan of water on to boil and got some tea going. I asked if anyone else would be interested and got an affirmative answer from Gimli. In no time at all, we were enjoying a strong cup of tea. My but it was smooth going down. Hopefully, it would stay there. We would soon be traveling again and dealing with the up and down motion of the horses.

_Oh woe is me!_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

After a few hours on horseback, which did not upset my stomach further, thanks be, I was feeling quite a bit less depressed. Being out in the wild was good medicine for what ailed me. The fresh air and sunshine lifted my spirits like nothing else ever could. It was nice to hear the birds sing and see the green of the grass and trees. Riding atop my beautiful mare, whose step was sure and gentle, was itself a comforting thing. I felt content and that was a feeling I hadn't had in quite awhile. It was a nice change.

Being on this journey emphasized just how many drawbacks there had been to living in a city. The bustle of so many people going about so many different forms of work tended to drown out any sounds of nature that may be heard. The buildings and walls cut the view of the landscape so badly, that there was nothing to see but more buildings and walls. A person knew the Anduin was near, but there was no way to see it from the city itself, unless you happened to dwell in the Citadel. So this was a welcome respite from the everyday life in the city I had become accustomed to.

We didn't speak much to each other as we rode. In fact, Gimli spent a good deal of the time dozing during the day. I noticed how Legolas would keep an eye out for Gimli's posture. If he seemed to be listing to either side, Legolas would reach back, and tap the side of the Dwarf that was sagging. That was usually all it took to rouse Gimli enough to put himself back to rights. It was amusing to watch.

I was amazed at the care the Elf took of Gimli. Legolas looked out after Gimli, usually without him knowing he was being looked out after. I admired that about Legolas. He was a true friend in all senses of the word—if you happened to be numbered among his friends, which I wasn't. He kept his mandatory watch over me with as much stealth as he did his watch over Gimli. I suppose if I had to be watched every waking—and sleeping—moment, it was better that I was not made especially aware that it was being done. I suppose I should thank Legolas for not letting Aragorn's ridiculous directive to be thrown into my face constantly. I was almost able to forget that Aragorn had a way of making my life his business, even when he wasn't present.

We would be going through Rohan during the first leg of our journey. It was still about a four-day ride to Edoras, since we weren't making a great deal of haste. We would bypass Edoras, actually. Even before we had set out, I had voiced my wishes to not go very near there. I did not know if I had the strength left in me to ride past my home. The temptation to give Dori her head and steer her straight to my father's house would be too great. Yes, it would be better to go nowhere near the place.

We stopped at midday, to rest the horses and take a bit of a meal. We dined on a few fruits and some bread that had been brought along with us. All in all, it was a pleasant time, if one didn't consider the fact that you could cut the tension between the Elf and me with a knife. After I had eaten, I strayed a little away from the group and lay myself down in the grass. It felt good to stretch out and it wasn't all that rocky here, so I could almost fall asleep right where I had dropped. The ache in my neck that I had when I'd risen this morning was almost completely gone. My head no longer hurt and my eyes no longer felt as if they were five times too big for their sockets. Yes, if I didn't think about my life a great deal, lying here with the sun warming my skin was a pleasant activity.

It was then that I felt it. The first stirring of life in my body. The baby within me had grown enough to make itself felt at last. I mentally counted the months since the child had been conceived and it was right on schedule. It had been about four months since that fateful night in my garden, beneath the Wishing Tree. I knew not whether to laugh or cry. When a mother at last has tangible evidence that she has life growing within her, it is an exciting thing. She wants to shout the news for any and all to hear. But who would be interested in hearing this news from me now? Gimli was sweet, but I think he tried to forget the reason we were on this trip in the first place. And the Elf could care less about me or mine. And there was no husband to rejoice with. That was a sad reality.

So I lay there and rejoiced with myself. After a few moments, my bliss fell remarkably. I began to feel guilty that this child would have a very strange family. He would have a healer mother, a King father, various 'uncles and aunts' of different races, including Elves, Dwarves, and men. He would have a grandfather who, I believed, would accept him, even if he was misbegotten. Deciding not to dwell on the gloomy side of things, I sat up. I took one last moment to feel my baby's movement within my belly, then I rose. I walked back to the others and began to saddle Dori, so that we could resume our journey. After a few moments, Legolas and Gimli had completed gathering up the lunch makings and we were on our way once again.

I said a silent prayer to the Valar. I thanked them for giving me another child. Misbegotten or not, he was cherished.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

We had made good time today, and decided a few hours before sunset to camp for the night. As usual, Legolas and I were skirting around each other, walking on eggshells, as it were. If we had uttered three words to each other all day, that would have been a generous count. I cared not a bit if he ever spoke to me. When he did, I usually wished that he hadn't.

I was gathering wood for the fire Legolas was going to make. He was usually in charge of that chore, for whatever reason I knew not. I cared not, either. Gimli's task was to remove the reins and packs from the horses. At first I thought that Legolas would be better suited to that job, being as how he was taller, but I refused to voice my opinion in fear that I hurt Gimli's feelings. He did an admirable job, so my worry was for naught. By unspoken agreement, it appeared that my job was to gather the wood for the fire.

Today, it seemed I was unable to even do that simple chore to meet Legolas' standards. For every three pieces of wood I would drop down near him, he would throw two away. I ignored it for a while, but finally decided to test him. I began picking up wood he had already rejected, and as I expected, he was accepting pieces he had already discarded once. The pile of wood was more than we would probably need, so he wasn't desperate for more fuel for the fire. There was no reason for his behavior other than to irk me. That was evident.

"You realize," I addressed him sarcastically, "that you are now accepting wood you threw away previously?"

He paused for a moment, then continued to build the fire, ignoring me as if I had not spoken at all. I should have let him be. I really should have.

"What are you so worked up about, Legolas?" I yelled. "Do you believe a woman cannot even gather wood for a fire to your satisfaction?"

He slowly looked up at me. "I know that women are quite capable of finding wood for a fire," he retorted. "I just do not think that you are."

"Well, you are much dimmer than I thought it was possible for an Elf to be," I said, in a quieter, but nastier, voice.

He stood from where he had been crouched and walked toward me slowly. He stopped and his face was inches from mine. His face was as hard as flint; his anger was plain. I tried very hard not to flinch, thus showing my fear, for I was indeed petrified.

"You should mind your tongue at whom you call dim, lady," Legolas said with hatred shooting from his eyes. "Your intellect could not begin to touch that of any of the Elves. Unlike humans, none of my kind are in any way dim."

Gimli walked over to us and placed a gentle hand on each of our shoulders. "Now, children," he said, "you must not fight. I grow _tired _of the discord." He was trying to make light of it for my sake, I believe. But he was indeed serious. His tone spoke volumes.

Legolas did not back down. He was as a statue, still and rigid and cold. I did not want to back down, either, but Gimli had been my lifeline on so many occasions, I wanted not to give him any trouble. I let my gaze drop from the Elf's. I backed up and started walking away.

It seems that Legolas was not going to spare Gimli's feelings, however. He looked at Gimli, and said, "I need not take abuse from Aragorn's whore. I will not stand for it."

And with that, he walked away.

I had not wandered far, so I heard what Legolas had said about me. He had meant for me to hear. He had not been the least bit quiet in his speech. At first I wanted to tear his pointed Elven ears off, but it was not long before my anger died and my hurt bubbled up to the surface, overflowing in tears. _Drat this ridiculous weeping!_

I strayed into the trees just a little farther. I finally could no longer see for all my crying, so I stopped walking, and sat in the carpet of leaves and needles that had fallen from the trees surrounding me. I sat there cross-legged in my misery, crying silently. I lifted my head when I heard voices nearby. It seemed as if Gimli had found Legolas and was trying to calm him down.

"Legolas, my friend," I heard Gimli say. "What bothers you, that you would speak such foulness?"

"I speak foul of foul things, Gimli," he replied. "You know me. I speak truly. I do not lie."

"You may not lie, Legolas, for you believe what you are saying," Gimli returned. "But you could be wrong, you know."

There was a pause in the conversation. I should be ashamed of myself, for my blatant eavesdropping, but I could not help myself. Even if I were to hear more wickedness come from the Elf's mouth, perhaps I could find out more about why he was so hateful to me. I know we seemed to naturally clash, but the unmasked venom of his stare, and his searing words to me, must be coming from his horrid impression of me. I had never been called a whore or anything of the like before. I was hurt, angry, and very curious as to exactly why he had this opinion of me. Could Legolas be so straight laced as to cast blame on my behavior? If I thought about it, that could very well be, after some of the comments he had made before this last one. He had accused me of blaming my baby for something my lustful nature had caused. Is that what this was all about?

"I am not wrong," Legolas said stubbornly. "She is what I said she is. I did not lie."

"If she is a—what you said she was," Gimli said, trying to be fair, I suppose, "what does that make Aragorn?"

"It makes him a man. That is something we both know he is," was Legolas' reply. "Men are easily lured into doing things their sane minds would not usually allow. He was caught up in a weak moment, that is all."

"I see," Gimli said, although it truly did not sound as if he did. "Maeren lured him into the act, is that it?"

"Something like that," the Elf replied tersely.

"Legolas, my fine Elven friend," Gimli said. I could almost see him shaking his head. "What do you think Aragorn would say if he heard you speaking like this? He would already have Anduril out and pointed at your heart. Not only have you called him weak, but you speak of the woman who would be the mother of his child as a common bar wench. Do you really believe this drivel you spout? I believe Maeren may be right and your flame is a bit dim."

I was giggling to myself, trying to stay quiet. Gimli always made me feel better, even when he was not aware of doing it. It reminded me of my Dustin. He could always cheer me up, no matter the circumstances.

"What you see as dim, is only concern," Legolas replied. "I am concerned for Arwen. I have known her longer than the years of your life tenfold and when she is wronged, I am wronged."

"So that is what this is all about," Gimli said with apparent relief at finally knowing why Legolas disliked me so much. "Legolas, Legolas. Do you not think Arwen can fight her own battles? The Queen seems as if she does not feel wronged. Did you not see her at our parting? She embraced Maeren, as one would a close friend, not as an enemy. How or why she feels this way, is her business and her business alone. You have no right to bear grievance in Arwen's name, especially when Arwen herself does not feel grieved."

I barely heard Legolas' footsteps fading as he walked away from Gimli. Evidently, Legolas had heard his fill of Gimli's Dwarven wisdom. It was only a few minutes more when I heard Gimli mutter something about hard-headed Elves and go off somewhere away from me.

I continued sitting beneath the trees and contemplated my relationship with Legolas. If I were being honest with myself, I would have to admit that I did treat him unfairly. From the first time we met, he had been nothing but nice to me. I had somehow managed to take offense at everything he said.

_He aggravated me. _

Even if he was aggravating, I should be mature enough to take such things in stride. I had been acting childishly where Legolas was concerned and it had finally gotten me into trouble.

If I were to believe what he had just said about my character, I suppose that would explain his contempt toward me. It had been only since this trip had begun that I had started feeling open hostility from him. Ever since the day we left Minas Tirith, I had seen the disdain he felt when he looked at me. I remembered just before we left, when he was speaking with Elladan, I think it was. Legolas had looked at me and laughed, and the look he gave me was not teasing, it was contemptuous. Things had only gone downhill from there. He did not speak to me unless it was necessary and when it was necessary, his words were harsh or blunt.

I was beginning to see a parallel between Legolas and the staff in the Houses of Healing. Was I a witch, as they all seemed to think? Could that many people be wrong about someone? Perhaps I needed to look at myself—really look at my behavior with others and see how they may perceive me. _This was certainly not how I thought this conversation with myself would go._

I continued the examination of my behavior. If I had trouble with that many people I came into contact with, what was the reason? In my defense, I could say that I had many good friendships, for it was true. But that still did not take away the fact that I also had my fair share of enemies. Well, maybe not enemies, but people who did not regard me as friendly. Why _was_ this?

I decided to list things I was constantly irritated by. Well in the first place, I was constantly irritated. That wasn't good, for starters. So why was I constantly feeling like this? Let's see. I began to list the things that annoyed me and the number astounded me.

Number one, I hated it when people played dumb to get out of work. _That was legitimate_. Number two, I hated it when people defied me, just because I was in charge. _That was legitimate also_. Number three, I hated it when I felt that I was being talked down to. When I _felt _that I was being talked down to. _Was that legitimate?_

If I really thought about it, were they talking down to me, or was my perception wrong? Perhaps on some level, I was insecure about my abilities. The result of that insecurity may be anger when I thought others believed I was as incapable as I feared I was. Perhaps my standards for myself were too high. I would never settle for 'good enough', I knew that without question. But where exactly was 'good enough' on my scale of perfection? _Perfection_? That wasn't good either, for if I held myself as needing to be perfect, I was fighting a losing battle.

All right. Perfection is a losing battle and I may as well begin today in my fight against holding myself to impossible expectations. This was going to be hard. However, if I expected to improve my relationships with people I wrongly held in disdain, I would have to work at this.

_Disdain?_ I held many people in disdain! _Why? _This was another sobering revelation.

I think it is because they do not live up to my high expectations in many cases. And if the goal I held for myself was perfection, perhaps I was holding others to that goal as well. _I had not known that I expected others to strive for perfection, and that was something I apparently expected of myself._

I certainly was not happy with my behavior. It seems I am a snob and very intolerant. I know I make snap judgments of people, that is not news to me. I had done that with Legolas. I was the guilty party in this, at least as far as us not getting along was concerned. I could not help it if he thought me a whore. That was something he would have to work out for himself. Since he did not think himself wrong, he may continue to go on holding to that assumption. In the long run, it mattered not. We were never destined to be friends, I suppose. _Now why did I think that?_

I had not liked him on sight. I thought him feminine—pretty, as a woman would be. But now as I think about him, I know I was wrong. He moves with grace, as all Elves move, be them male or female. There is nothing feminine about his voice. It is musical, as other Elves' voices are. When I really think about him, there is nothing feminine about him at all. His hair is long and lustrous, but so is the hair of other Elves. His skin is flawless. Again this is a trait of his kind. His bearing is regal, his features beautiful in a classic way. His movements may be graceful, but they are stealthy when need be, and always purposeful. I had ridiculed him and that was never acceptable behavior toward anyone. Why would I behave so toward him?

As I thought about Legolas' appearance in reality, I was stunned by a new revelation. _I thought him attractive. I really did. _And that scared me. I wanted to think no male was attractive. That may lead me to feel affection for them and that may lead to something more. _And that may lead me to betray my Dustin—_again_._

_Revelations upon revelations today._

When I looked at Legolas with my mind's eye, I finally realized that he reminded me of Dustin, at least as far as his physical appearance goes. They both had blond hair, tied back from their faces. Dustin's eyes were the same deep blue as those of Legolas. The dimples in their cheeks and their young appearance. Even the hawkish frowns they wore when displeased. I pushed Legolas away as hard as I could, not because I despised him, but because I was attracted to him.

This is also why Aragorn scares me so—why I am so nervous around him. I find him attractive and that fills me with fear. I get along well with Arwen and Faramir and Gimli. Arwen is female, so that is why she is no threat to me. Faramir is betrothed, so he is also safe. And Gimli I love, but I do not find him attractive in that way.

What would Dustin have to say about this? Would he agree with me, that I should push away males I found attractive? He was not here and I was alone. Given those circumstances, would Dustin wish me to live a life of solitude? If it was I who had died, and he who had been left alone, would I expect him to never love again? The answer to that question was _no_.

I began to weep silently again. How I wished my Dustin was here. I wanted _him_. I did not want Aragorn, or Legolas, or Faramir, or any other man. I wanted my Dustin. _Why did he leave me alone? Why?_ My life was not supposed to be this way. I was supposed to be in Rohan—living in Edoras—with my husband and son. Maybe two sons by now. Or a daughter. I was not supposed to be here alone! I was content with my life just as it was—being an assistant healer, with Lord Keodwen being the Warden. I had a little house and a little family. I had a husband I adored and who adored me. I wanted to be in_ his_ arms. I ached for his love. _Why was this happening? Why?_

It was apparent that I was still grieving after three years and countless changes in my life. Dustin was my life and he was gone. Did that mean my life was also gone?

I jumped when I felt Gimli's arm go around me. He was kneeling by my side, hugging me to him. When I realized it was him, I leaned into his chest, his beard cradling my head. I sobbed and he held me. I know not how long we were there together, but after awhile, I sat up, wiping my face on the back of my sleeve. My nose was running and I was so stuffy I could barely be understood, but I had to try and tell Gimli how much he meant to me—without treading on his Dwarven toes.

"Gimli, my friend," I mumbled tearfully. "I know not what I would do without you. Please, Gimli, never leave me. Always be here in the world and always be my friend. Will you promise this to me, Gimli? Please?"

I heard Gimli sniff. It appears that weeping is as contagious as laughter is thought to be.

"I promise with all my being, Maeren," Gimli replied, his voice rough with emotion. "I will always be your friend. Would that I had control over when my time here on Middle Earth would be over, but alas, I do not. Until my time comes, I am yours for the taking."

"Thank you, Gimli," I said quietly. He shifted himself to where he was sitting beside me. Tears continued to course down my cheeks. I unburdened my soul to him, like I had never done with anyone else—not even Faramir.

"Gimli," I started, "I was married for twelve years to a wonderful man. I had a son who would now be fourteen years old. They both perished in a fire three years ago. A fire set by a witless, careless fool, who was never identified. I have been alone since then and I miss them terribly. That is why I ask you to stand by me. I need someone on whom I can count. Someone who will love me no matter what. It seems as if that someone is you. I am sorry to burden you with this, but sometimes I feel as if I cannot breathe, with the ache of missing my family so. I need someone to hold onto me and help me breathe again." I paused for a few moments. When I started speaking again, it was with chagrin. "I am sorry, Gimli. I cannot believe I am acting as such a child. Please forget all the nonsense I have been spouting. Forget all but the part about being my friend. That is a gift you give me, which I will cherish until my dying day."

"Hush now, my dear lass," Gimli said. "You act as a bereaved woman, not a child. I am glad you have confided this to me. It explains a great deal about who you are. And I would like to know Maeren—not just the intrepid woman she oft-times portrays herself to be." He took a deep breath, and continued. "We all need someone, lass. You are no different. You need not stand alone ever again. Let me stand with you. It would be my honor and my pleasure." He paused again. It seemed as if he weighed his words carefully before he spoke. "There are others as loyal as I, who would gladly stand with you as well. You merely have to let them into your heart."

"I know not who they are, Gimli," I replied. "Perhaps someday, I may open my eyes and discover them. Right now, I cannot see anyone that you may see."

"Perhaps you are right," he said. "Keep your heart open and one day your eyes will open as well. I would wager on that."

He hugged me once more and stood. He laid his hand against my cheek and pressed my head against his hip. Then he left, but I didn't feel alone any longer.

_Thanks be for sweet Dwarves—oops, I called him sweet._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	20. Silence and Slapping

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien

I spent a while longer composing myself. I had finally cried myself out. Slowly I rose and made my way back to camp, stopping long enough to take care of basic things. It was almost dusk now, and I had been away long enough. At least, long enough for me. I am sure Legolas wished I would stay away forever.

Even though I didn't feel like apologizing to the Elf right now, I knew I had better do so while my resolve was strong, or I would find a reason not to. Besides, if I waited too long, he was sure to upset me again, and then I wouldn't apologize to him at all, and I really felt I should. I had been unfair to him from the start, with my repeated belittling of him to his friends. The fact that they probably told him exactly what I had said, and that _I _had said it, had probably helped him form his disgusting opinion of me. Even an Elf could probably not endure such teasing for long—even though I hadn't done it to his face—without becoming resentful.

When I approached, Gimli was busy getting utensils for cooking and eating out of the gear. Legolas was nowhere to be seen. _Oh well, I suppose I will have to wait to tell him I was wrong. Boy is _that_ word going to stick in my throat._

I had not long to wait before he returned with a large grouse and two small quail dangling from his fists. How he shot an arrow into the quail without totally destroying such a small bird, I knew not. I also wondered why we needed so much meat, but then I smiled to myself. I had to remember that Legolas had to feed a full-grown Dwarf. I would wager that was the reason there was more than one bird.

Legolas crouched down at the edge of the camp, and began pulling feathers, preparing the fowl for the fire. I went over to him and commenced to de-plume one of the quail he had lain aside while he plucked the grouse. Legolas had shot the heads off the smaller fowl. That was how he'd managed to kill them without destroying them. He certainly was good with that bow of his.

He didn't look at me or speak to me. I was mildly surprised he didn't grab the bird back from me and move away. However, anger emanated from him like sparks off a flint. As soon as he'd plucked the grouse, he gutted it. By the time he was finished with that grisly chore, I had finished plucking one of the smaller birds, and he picked that one up to remove its innards as well.

When the birds had been prepared, he picked them all up—I had not realized how large his hands were before—and carried them to whatever water source he had found for us to camp near. As we traveled, we would usually stay near small creeks or branches that fed off the Mering Stream, which, I was told by the Elf of our party when he was in a conversational mood, meandered from the Entwash, wherever that was. I went to the cooking gear and found the grill, to put the birds on as he washed them. That way, he wouldn't have to put them on the ground after they'd been rinsed.

He wasn't far ahead of me, so I had no trouble finding the stream he had headed for. I am sure this stream probably had some sort of Elvish name, but I had no head for remembering names of obscure streams, so even if I had been told, I did not remember what this one's was. Legolas was already crouched at its edge, dipping the first bird into the water to wash. I knelt beside him and proffered the grill when he was finished with the bird's bath. He still had yet to look at me.

"Legolas," I said quietly, "I want to tell you that I am sorry for the way I have acted toward you. I have been childish; and, for reasons I cannot go into right now, I was taking my feelings out on you." He still did not look at me. He just continued the washing and rinsing of our supper.

We had never carried on any sort of conversation, which was my fault as well. I never gave him the chance to get that close to me. I didn't want to hear anything he might say and I didn't want to interact with him. The fact that I now knew the reason why was embarrassing—humiliating even—but it was true. I was attracted to him and it still scared me—even though he behaved like the backside of a mule most of the time.

I continued, although I really didn't know what else to say. "I will be cooperative with you and will not give you undue backtalk from now on." He still did not speak, or in any other way acknowledge my presence.

I was trying to keep my ire down, because he was not making this easy at all. He was, in fact, trying—and succeeding—to upset me again. I took a few deep breaths and placed the grill on the ground and rose. I had apologized. Whether he accepted it or not was up to him. I could do no more.

I was helping Gimli at the fire when Legolas returned with the birds for our meal. I hadn't much to do, other than perhaps get tea ready. I had cooked for my family when I was growing up, and then for my little family after I was married, but to say I possessed any great skill in the culinary arts would be a lie. And besides, it appears as if men folk need things to do when out in the wild. They cannot seem to sit idly and just enjoy being outside. No, they must be doing something—fiddling with this, or destroying that while trying to fix it. Any work—even so-called woman's work—was better than sitting still. I could not make myself feel the least bit guilty about being idle while the males of our group worked at this or that small job. Were I to attempt to do anything, I am sure it would not be correct in their eyes, and they would insist in taking the task from me, or doing it over when I had already done it. I would never understand the workings of the male mind as long as I lived.

Gimli and Legolas set about placing the birds on the grate over the fire. They had halved each one, to speed up the cooking, I suppose. It smelled divine, and for once, the aroma of food did not send me dashing for the bushes. I sincerely hoped that the sickness associated with my condition would be gone soon. It did seem to be abating somewhat. What used to be a twice-a-day occurrence was now down to once a day or every other day. That may not have seemed like relief to anyone else, but to me it was definitely a change for the better.

Our meal was soon cooked and we set about eating it. I sat across the fire from Gimli, trying to get out of range of the flying grouse meat he sent out whilst tearing into the bird with gusto. I noticed that Legolas stayed on the outer limits of Gimli's eating free-for-all, as well. And would you not know it? Gimli finished before either of us, again having only bones remaining of what had been a rather large grouse. Amazing were the eating habits of this Dwarf friend of mine.

As soon as all was eaten and cleared away, we sat with tea around the fire. It was mostly a peaceful silence, or small conversation between Legolas and Gimli. I was quiet, as I figured that would be my safest course. I wished not to speak lest I be ignored by a certain Elf, as that was beginning to make me angry. I was growing tired of his petulant silence, in regards to me. Yes, it was better that I simply stay out of the conversation altogether.

Legolas finally stood to get himself ready for first watch over our camp, and Gimli and I rose with him. The Elf armed himself—to the teeth, it seemed—buckling the strap that held his quiver and long knives to his back, after pulling his hair over his shoulder to keep it out of the way. He reached for his bow and slung that over his shoulder as well. It was funny how I had never noticed his hands before. I remembered noting the length and agility of Elven fingers when Elrond had been in my office apologizing to me, what seemed years ago. I decided that was the reason this Elf's hands were holding me in thrall now. It certainly wasn't for any other reason.

Before we each began preparing for the night, I made an offer of what I felt was a perfectly legitimate idea. I proposed that I take first watch, when it would surely be quieter and less threatening, thus letting Legolas rest. He never seemed to sleep, open-eyed or any other way. However, it seems I was the only person in the camp who thought it wasn't complete lunacy.

"Maeren," Gimli said doubtfully, "I think it is best left to the men of the camp to keep watches. No offense meant, but I am not sure of your use of any weapon."

"I am not particularly efficient in heavy weaponry," I admitted, "but I do possess a dagger and can use it if need be. And I do have a voice to shout alarm. That should count for something."

"Your offer is kind, lady," Gimli said, "but I would feel better knowing that you get the rest you need. You must remember your condition, you know."

"I remember it, Gimli," I responded, though not unkindly for he meant well. "It seems as though you both feel a lady is not capable in this area, so I bow to your wishes and withdraw my offer."

"A _lady_ would not have made such an offer," Legolas said offhandedly, as he checked the edge on a dagger he then placed in his belt.

I had considered the Elf an intelligent being until he made that comment. I had certainly heard that particular slur one too many times, and was very tired of it. As he glanced up after sheathing his dagger, he found out just how tired of it I was in a most physical fashion. I slapped the sneer right off his face. From the look he gave me, I thought he might just hit me back. I cared not if he did! Then I would have an excuse for hitting him again. I suppose my good sense had fled. He no longer scared me. I had apologized to him for treating him badly, but I would not listen to his insults any more.

Gimli was quick to intervene, stepping between us. His ire had finally been sparked and he let us both know it.

"Stop this, the both of you!" he shouted. "I have had enough of the constant discord between you. If you cannot be civil, then have no dealings with one another _at all_! Now, _I_ will keep watch. The two of you go where you will, as long as it is in opposite directions and _away_ from me!"

I glared at Legolas and he glared back at me. We both turned at the same time and stomped away.

_At least I stomped. I know not if an Elf is even capable of stomping. Nor do I care!_

I was still too worked up to go to sleep, after that nasty scene I'd had with Legolas. I felt sure that steam must be coming out of my ears. My brain may have been oozing out of them, for all I knew. I felt rage to the point of not being able to think at all. I went down to the stream where I had helped _His Majesty the Elf_ earlier this evening. I sat down hard on the bank of the little brook, so hard that it jarred my teeth, not to mention what it did to my rear.

I was so mad I didn't even think about weeping. I simply cursed that whelp of a Warg in my mind over and over again. This _lady_ was going to slap anyone—and I mean anyone—who ever slurred me in that way again. I just was not going to take it any more. I had made a mistake. There is no denying that. But I wasn't alone when the mistake was made and I would not put the entire blame on myself for the result—nor would I allow anyone else to from now on. _Curse that stupid Elf! _

I sat at the water's edge for quite a while. It had grown really dark, when I had finally calmed down enough to notice. It wasn't too terribly long before my anger cooled. I was glad of that, because it was giving me the most horrible headache. My mind rifled through the contents of my bag containing herbal remedies. I should have something in there to not only ease the pain in my head, but to calm me down as well.

I was finding that the longer I sat, the less was my ire. However, the more my anger abated, the easier it was to allow melancholy to take its place. When melancholy took over, tears were usually the result and I was tired of crying. It would not surprise me if I had permanent trails down my cheeks by now, as much weeping as I had done during the past few months. And I sincerely did not want to give that _stupid Elf _the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to me again. Although if slapping him hadn't made that obvious to him, he certainly _was_ stupid for a fact.

I rose, took care of business for the last time for the night, and headed for my bedroll, grabbing my water skin and the bag with the herbs in it before I sat down. I forgot to grab a cup from the eating gear, so I had to rise, and retrieve one. As soon as I was sitting again, I poured a bit of powdered Valerian into the cup and added some water. I drank it down. Not only would it probably ease my headache, it would definitely help me sleep. I took the pins from my hair and shook my head when I was finished removing them all. I massaged my scalp with my fingertips, paying special attention to my temples, where the headache was the worst. Before I laid down, I decided to go to Gimli and apologize to him for being such a witch this evening. _I was growing sick of apologizing constantly. _I hoped he wasn't too angry with me, but there was only one way to find out.

Gimli was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, smoking his pipe. I wandered over to him and sat beside him on the log. He looked at me and shook his head, but he was smiling. And then he winked at me. _Now what was that about?_

"Gimli," I started, "I—"

"Hush, lass," he said, interrupting me, "no need for apologies. You have had a rough day, and that Elf has been the cause of most of your troubles. I am sorry for shouting at you earlier, but something had to be done to break the tension that had grown between you and Legolas. You two had come to blows, and I _think_ the Elf would never hit a lady, but I have been wrong about him before. I have never seen him angrier than he was tonight, and that's a fact. I could take no chances with your safety."

"He does not think me a lady," I replied quietly, "so he very well may have hit me back. At the time I cared not, but now I feel shame for hitting anyone, even if they had it coming."

Gimli chuckled at that and said, "He did have it coming, lass." Then he sobered somewhat and said, "Take yourself over to your bedroll and go to sleep. You look about to fall on your face. Get some rest, and hopefully, things will look brighter in the morning."

"I suppose you are right, Gimli," I replied. I put a hand on his arm closest to me and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Thank you again for helping me earlier this evening, when I was so sad. You are such a good friend. If I can ever be half as good a friend to you as you are to me, I will be very happy. Good night, Gimli."

I went back to my bedroll and laid down quickly. The Valerian had begun to take effect, and just as Gimli had said, I was practically asleep on my feet. I did fall to sleep instantly and my dreams were filled with angry words and fights to the death. Not very pleasant dreams, all in all.

I had not been asleep long, when something startled me awake. I grabbed for the unsheathed dagger I kept snuggled near me in my bedroll and sat up, throwing back my blanket, ready to strike at whatever was threatening me.

I blinked several times. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Legolas sat not two feet away, a quizzical expression on his fair face. I could feel an angry frown coming on. I threw the blanket completely off and placed my hand with the dagger still clutched in it down beside me on the bedroll.

"What in Eru's name are you looking at, you despicable Elf?" I asked quietly, but with venom, my teeth clenched in anger.

He had the cheek to chuckle at me. I wanted to take Aragorn's dagger and cut the lips right off that smirking face before I killed him, but decided against it. For whatever reason beyond my grasp, Gimli had a fondness for this stupid Elf, and I would probably not live long were I to slay him.

Legolas ceased his laughing, his expression returning to one of puzzlement. "I merely wished to understand what type of Human would be able to lay a hand on me, without my being unconscious, or me giving them leave to do so. I sensed no strike coming, so when you slapped me, I was completely surprised, and that is something that never occurs. Thus, I was staring at you, trying to discern how you happened to surprise me with an attack."

I certainly did not find any humor in the situation, nor did I hold this Elf in any higher esteem than I had before. Besides, I was still not completely awake and when I went to sleep, I had done so with a belly full of hatefulness for this stupid Elf. I willed myself to calm down. He really hadn't done anything but stare at me.

"I didn't attack you, Legolas," I said firmly. "I have never attacked anyone in my entire life. Defend myself, yes. I have done that on many occasions." I was proud of myself for not screaming at his impertinence. "I will not accept any more insults from you concerning my situation. You assume you know the entire story of how I came to be in this condition, but I can assure you, that you do not."

"So," Legolas said, "Aragorn attacked you. Is that what you are saying?"

I caught myself just before I spent a lung full of air bellowing at him. Since Gimli had been so kind as to hold no hard feelings for this ongoing strife, I did not wish to subject him to more. Especially when he had already shouted at us to cease it once tonight. Instead, I spoke calmly to the Elf.

"I did not say that and it is none of your business anyway," I told him. "If you want to know the story, I suggest you ask Aragorn. You will not hear it from me. Now, please go away and leave me to sleep. All this fussing has given me a headache, and if you leave, most of my pain will go with you!"

"All right," Legolas said. "I will leave you to sleep. But do not think to strike me again or you will discover what it means to be attacked by an Elf."

Before I could formulate a proper reply, he was gone. He had practically vanished before my eyes. _How did he do that?_

Was the Valerian clouding my mind or did that stupid Elf just threaten me? It was difficult to tell with him. One minute he was laughing, the next he was making veiled threats. It mattered not. I had no intention of attacking him anytime soon. I would maybe puzzle it all out in the morning. Right now, I could not keep my eyes open. I lay back down and fell asleep before I was even completely prone.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	21. Tired and Tried

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien. SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1

The next morning dawned clear and cool. The birds sang, the crickets chirped and the frogs croaked—and I felt like croaking right along with them.

I suppose in my anger and frustration last night, I must have mixed a bit too much Valerian with my water to cure my headache. While my headache was gone this morning, it was replaced with a deep-seated need to remain tucked into my bedroll, sleeping the day away. In testament to how desperate that thought was, the ground was like rock, and if I had been in control of all of my faculties, I would not have relished the thought of lying on the ground any longer. However when the alternative was being in a saddle, with the steady up and down motion of riding, maybe the rocky ground wasn't so bad after all. _Here I am, not even awake yet and I am having an argument with myself. Boy was this going to be a long day._

Had I only known—

I sat up slowly, swiping my hand over my mouth, which was so dry, it felt as if I had been chewing on my blanket all night. I blinked my eyes several times, then raised my arms in a huge stretch. It was then that I noticed I was clutching Aragorn's dagger in my fist. I brought my hand down slowly, surprised at finding it there in my grasp. I stared at it, wondering how it had come to be in my hand. I didn't even remember having it with me at all, much less unsheathed. It was a miracle that I hadn't slit my own throat with it, as sharp as it was. I set about trying to remember what other things may have happened last night that were failing to come back to my empty mind this morning.

I squinted as I tried to remember anything about the dagger. I suddenly remembered I had been scared by that ridiculous Elf at some point during the night. That led me to remember that after I had spoken with Gimli, I had retrieved the knife, wanting it at the ready in case I was beset by ne'er-do-wells, or some fell beast that might be lurking in the night. I had not thought to be so armed any other night since we began this sojourn, and the thought that I had two able bodied warriors at my side had not occurred to me. It must have been the Valerian that influenced the highly dubious decision I made to keep it near me—unsheathed. I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't cut myself to ribbons on the thing, as sharp an edge as Aragorn kept on it.

_And that stupid Elf had seen me sleeping with it and had done nothing to disarm me!_

Well that was hardly his fault. After all, I had hit him over mere words. He must have been wary of me being armed as I was. Besides, I am sure he did not know it was Aragorn's dagger and therefore as sharp as a razor. I had no doubt that Legolas would think a dagger I may own would be as dull as he thought I was. That being the case, he would naturally think I could not harm myself with it. No, as much as I may have wished it to be, it was not his fault at all.

I rose from my bedroll and went through the trees to find a likely place to take care of this morning's basic needs. As soon as I was finished, I made my way to the stream. I felt like wading into the water clothes and all. I needed to wake up. I was having difficulty even staying upright. I settled for kneeling by the water, reaching down and splashing handfuls of it up into my face. I got my shirt wet as well, but that was another small nudge I needed to become fully conscious. The water was _cold_!

I really needed a bath, but it was later than I normally rose. The sun was up above the horizon and the men would want to get going soon. Before I left the campsite, I noticed that the fellows I traveled with had something sizzling over the fire for their breakfast. My mind chose not to dwell too long on that thought - it knew that my stomach would not take kindly to such ideas right now. No, I would settle for a face scrubbing and shirt wetting. I suppose I should include a head wetting. I lost my balance and fell face first into the stream, much to my dismay.

I gasped, as I tried to right myself, and slowly I parted my hair, which had completely plastered itself to my face, covering my eyes. Somehow, I ended up sitting in the brook. I decided not to try and figure out the whys or wherefores. I just got up, wringing out my hair as I did so.

I became aware that someone was laughing at me. No, it was more than one someone laughing. I knew Gimli wasn't one of them - I could recognize his voice easily. It didn't really sound like Legolas was one of those laughing either. However, I was no expert in recognizing his voice, since he seemed fit not to use it around me often—except to say something mean. So I opened the curtain that was my hair and beheld two identical Elves. The sons of Elrond had finally graced us with their presence, and they couldn't have found a better time do so.

I was still spitting river scum out of my mouth when they commenced to tease me.

"Elrohir," Elladan said, "I can see that traveling has _dampened _her spirits somewhat."

"Yes, brother," Elrohir replied, "it does seem as if she is _awash_ with fatigue brought on by travel."

"Have your fun," I said. "But beware. My tongue is dry, as is my wit, and I would fully appreciate it if you would _beach_ me before I catch my death of cold out here."

As one of them—I had lost track of their identities in my embarrassment—held his hand out to me, he said, "Oh now, dear lady. Your condition has not enlarged you to the size of a whale yet. Perhaps in a few weeks you may compare yourself to an Oliphaunt, but for now, I would say perhaps a kine of some sort is more the order of the day."

"You are too kind, whoever you are," I replied. He helped me, dripping as I was, out of the stream and to the bank. I sloshed when I walked; my boots had filled with water. I stopped and sat where I was. I felt sure there was a small fish nibbling at one of my toes. It turned out to be only a small pebble that had somehow become lodged in my boot. The Elves began laughing again, finding humor in my predicament that was evidently lost on me. I just smiled and commenced to take off my other boot, and pour out the water and whatever else had found its way inside. I then put them both back on my feet and got up in a less than graceful manner.

Their laughter had alerted Legolas to the twins' presence, and he came walking through the trees toward us. At the sight of me dripping wet, he stopped, eyebrows raised and began laughing along with Elrohir and Elladan.

And to think. I had believed _one _Elf was more than enough to contend with. Now there were _three _of them. _What joy_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I simply shook my head and sloshed past the howling Elves. They would get theirs, that was certain. I still had Jonas safely shrouded for just the right time and place. I had confidence in the two of us. Yes, we would see just who would be laughing when Jonas showed his bony face. The thought of the skull tucked away in my gear made me laugh, and I believe that surprised the trio. There was a distinct lull in their hilarity. I looked back at them and burst into peals of laughter. I could not wait to introduce my cousin Jonas to them!

I retrieved a change of clothes, and on my way back into the trees, passed the still smiling Elves on their way to the campsite. In no time I was fully clothed in dry togs, except for my boots, which I left drying in the sun. There was no way they would be dry before it was time to leave, but I would have dry feet for at least that long a time. I warily made my way toward the fire, stopping about five feet away from where everyone was gathered. I was in dire need of tea. I certainly hoped it was made. Even though I was desperate for the hot, steaming beverage laced with lots of honey, I wanted not to hazard too close to the smell of food, without being certain that the act of doing so was worth the risk of retching. My nose was working overtime, as was my stomach, and even though the aroma of breakfast seemed tantalizing, I had fallen for that trap before, with sickening results. Standing on tiptoes, I craned my neck, trying to see around those whose appetites and eating habits were enough to make me sick anyway.

I could not tell if there was tea or not. Unfortunately, I attracted the interest of one of the twins and he looked at me curiously.

"Why are you standing there?" he asked. "Get yourself over here and eat. We should be leaving soon."

I smiled as sweetly as I could, hoping to garner some sympathy from whichever twin it was who had spoken to me. "I was only wanting tea today. Is there perhaps some made?"

"Yes," he answered, "there is some right here, ready for pouring." At my hesitation to approach the fire, he frowned and said, "I am not in the habit of serving, but if it is your desire that I do so, I believe I can oblige you."

"That would be lovely," I said with a sigh and a smile.

He looked shocked, as if he hadn't really meant the offer to be taken seriously. "Get you over here, Maeren," he said again. "I lied. I do not want to spoil you this morning, lest you expect me to serve you at every meal."

I decided to throw caution to the wind. I wanted that tea badly. I held my breath and walked quickly to the fire. I was almost finished with the pouring, when I ran out of air and had to breathe. Drat! I dropped the cup of tea I had just poured, and dashed into the trees. Sick again.

_Was that the sound of hysterical Elven laughter I heard over the sound of my retching? Yes, I believe it was._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

I was now living for revenge.

After I was finished disgracing myself, I went to my bedroll and sank down upon it. I grabbed my water skin angrily, removed the top and took a mouthful of water. Turning away from the group at the fire, I spit with all the force I could muster. I still managed to drool down my chin_. Eru! Was I going to make it through this day?_

I tugged at the blanket on my bedroll, trying to pull it out from under me. Not only was it in an uncomfortable knot beneath my rear, I wanted to wipe my blasted chin on it. I finally accomplished at least pulling a corner up far enough to reach my face, and rid myself of the unbecoming wetness adorning my chin.

As soon as I straightened up, I jumped and almost screamed. There was an Elf and a cup of tea right at eye level. I placed my hand on my chest to still my racing heart.

"Which one are you, please?" I asked.

"I believe it is customary to thank the bearer of precious gifts, is it not?" the Elf replied.

"Thank you, sir," I replied as I accepted the treasured beverage. "Which one are you, please?"

"That is so unimportant," he replied with a wicked grin. "Here, take this cup. It is full to the brim with nice, hot, honeyed tea. I believe that was what you requested to be served to you, was it not?" I didn't remember _voicing_ that particular order, but the tea was here before me and I felt not like asking too many questions.

I accepted the offered cup and took at big sip. That was decidedly the wrong thing to do, because it certainly was nice and hot. I think I burned my tongue. I continued to sit there, not saying anything, looking down at the ground—or anywhere but at the Elf that was still crouched down in front of me.

"Is there aught else that I, Elladan, may do for you, my lady?" He asked.

I looked at him then, although a bit skittishly. I wondered what other tricks he had up his sleeve, besides reading minds.

"Well," I started in answer to his question, "I would like it very much if you would cease laughing at me." He gave me a noncommittal look, so I continued. "Neither you nor your brother even greeted me properly when you arrived."

He took the cup of tea he had just given me, set it aside and stood. Before I could even protest the loss of my precious liquid, he rose and held his hands out to help me to my feet. I hadn't remembered voicing—or even thinking—about rising, but I accepted his offer and stood. He then enveloped me in a huge hug, complete with thumps on the back. After a few moments of this, he released me, and said, "Greetings, my lady Maeren. It is, as always, a pleasure to see you again."

Before I had recovered from that shock, I was shocked again, when another Elf grabbed me into a bear hug. And this Elf gave me a kiss on the cheek! I was flustered, to put it mildly.

"Greetings, my lady Maeren," Elrohir echoed his brother. "It is, as always, a pleasure to see you again." As he released me, he added, "And the kiss was from our beautiful sister. She wished for us to greet you for her as well."

"Likewise, I'm sure," I mumbled almost incoherently.

These two Elves left spots of cold dread in my stomach, wondering what they would be up to next. Since my stomach was already feeling sick enough, I decided not to dwell on the pending doom for long. I was sure I would find out soon enough.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

We all set about breaking camp. Legolas gathered everyone's water skins and then thrust them all at me. He almost smiled at me when he said, "Try not to fall in." He then went about his business and I was left standing there gaping. I guess having his friends here put him in a better mood. Whatever the reason for his sudden levity, I cared not. I would just enjoy it while it lasted.

As soon as I was done with my appointed task, I brushed Dori. She was so beautiful, and as I ran my hands over her sleek neck, I still could not believe she was mine. I quickly saddled and bridled her. She stood quietly during the whole procedure as was her usual way. I tied my bedroll behind the saddle and repacked anything I may have taken out of my saddlebags the night before.

I was finished before the others, so set about trying to help out as I could. I noticed a few cooking and eating items that had been used that needed cleaning and packing, so I picked them up and carried them to the stream. I had them rinsed in short order and was carrying them back to the clearing, when Legolas met me, with the usual frown on his face. I should have known not to think he had taken a sudden turn for the better as far as his cordiality toward me was concerned.

"I was looking for these," he said tersely. He grabbed the pans and cups from me, turned and walked away, brushing past Elrohir as he did so. Elrohir gave Legolas a frown on his way past, then looked at me with a shrug, as if asking me about his friend's behavior.

"You do not want to know," I replied. "And besides, I do not really know the whole of it, I do not think." Elrohir put his arm around my shoulders as I joined him and I smiled at the friendly gesture. We got back to the campsite, which was being given another quick once over to make sure all was as we had found it.

Just as I was about to mount Dori, I heard Gimli clear his throat right beside me. I turned to see what he was needing my attention for, and was quickly blushing. He held my boots in one of his hands. He was smiling, eyebrows raised, and said, "Did you forget something, lass?"

I laughed, and said, "Indeed I did, Gimli." The overdose of Valerian had certainly done a job on me. I took my boots from him and gave him a small bow, then plopped myself gracelessly upon the ground and pulled my soggy boots on. It was quite an ordeal. Trying to pull wet boots over dry stockings is not easy. Now I knew how I had come to forget in the first place. It had been something I was not looking forward to doing.

I sloshed over to my sweet mare, and after having my foot slip from the stirrup twice, finally got purchase enough to heave myself up into the saddle. By then, everyone else was atop their mounts, and we urged them on for another day in the saddle. As soon as we had been going for a bit, we began a discussion on the causes of the common cold in Humans.

"I have an extra pair of boots in my saddlebags, Maeren, if you would like to borrow them," Elladan said.

"Thank you for the offer, Elladan," I replied, "but I am really fine. I do not suspect that these boots will dry anytime soon, but it is really warm out these days, so I am not cold. It is just a bit uncomfortable."

"It was always told to me," Elladan said in his most scientific voice, "that wet clothes and chilly conditions caused Humans to contract those coughing and sneezing fits that resulted in their noses running constantly with— "

"Elladan," Elrohir protested, "must you get into the gritty details of the malady? It is most disgusting to witness first hand, must we visit it through your vivid descriptions?"

Surprisingly Legolas joined in the conversation. "Is this malady serious for Humans?"

"Not usually," Elrohir answered. "Estel had it quite often during his years as a child. A few times Father was concerned for him, because his fever rose very high, but usually it was not serious—only disgusting for those around him."

"And it isn't particularly entertaining for the Human enduring it, either," I put in.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Maeren," Elladan said, "but is it not true, that sometimes the illness can progress into something called—let me see, what is it called? Oh yes. Pneumonia?"

"Yes, that is true," I said. "And that is serious. It can kill. In fact, it usually does kill."

Legolas again joined in our conversation. "How far are we from a stream? Perhaps we could dump her in again. Our errand would be shorter, rather than as drawn out as it seems."

Amid all the protests at his malice from the other travelers, I shouted them all down, ignoring the oafish remark from the blond Elf of the company. "While it is a widely held belief, Elladan, that dampness and chill cause the cold, it is but an old woman's tale. It is believed that something else causes it."

"But what else could it be?" Elladan protested. "_Evil spirits_?"

"Of course not," I replied. "I know not exactly what, Elladan. But if wetness and chill caused the cold, then why does not every Human who gets wet or cold contract the malady? Hmm? Can you answer me that?"

"No," he replied emphatically. "I cannot answer you that. I just cannot imagine what else could cause it, that is all. Do you have any ideas?"

"All I can imagine is that there is some 'thing' that exists that is so small we cannot see it," I said, almost dreamily. "So small, we do not even believe it exists. But how else can we explain illnesses in Humans? For that matter, how can we explain the lack of sickness or death in Elves? Being an Elf, can you answer that question for me?"

"I fear, I cannot," he told me. "What I can tell you, though, is that I believe my horse is faster than that nag you are riding and I believe I can prove it. Do you care to take my challenge? I will even give you a head start!"

I did not answer, I simply kicked Dori into a full gallop and Elladan and I raced ahead, neck and neck until the horses had run their fill. When we stopped, I was ahead.

_Do you suppose he let me win? I hope not. But I will never know, will I? _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

Just before we stopped at midday, I was startled when I felt a bump on the right side of Dori. I knew then that I had been asleep and as I came back to consciousness, I realized that someone had his arm around me, holding me in my saddle, as we stopped. I straightened up, shrugging out of the embrace, apologizing profusely to whomever it was who had prevented my fall.

"I am sorry," I said, "I will be fine. I am sure once we stop to eat and drink, I will be fine. I cannot believe I have done this."

"No harm done," Elladan said, "it was my pleasure, to be sure. Aragorn, not to mention Arwen, would beat me to within an inch of my life were I to allow you to come to harm while you are under my care."

I stifled the urge to scream at him that I didn't need to be under anyone's care. I simply nodded as I dismounted. I'd had a nap which had evidently not done anything for my humor, as it had left me without any at all.

Elladan and Elrohir carried on a conversation with Legolas in Elvish and then Gimli was invited to dismount. Legolas and Elrohir then left on their mounts to some destination unknown to me. We had in our possession the Elvish pack horse, which had been following us without any trouble from Minas Tirith without rein or any other tack save a halter—my point being that we had the provisions and I was very hungry. Without asking anyone's permission or otherwise getting leave of any kind, I began to scrounge around in the packs, looking for anything which may hit my fancy. I found a bag containing some sort of bread and several fruits, so I disengaged it from the horse, giving the sweet beast a pat as I relieved it of this one burden.

I already had an apple out of the bag and had taken a bite out of it, when I sat and offered the bag to the other two who had remained with me. Gimli took the sack from me, smiling.

"I see your appetite is back, lass," he said.

"It comes and goes, Gimli," I replied. "Believe it or not, I really do not heave as often as I had been doing."

He looked aghast. "It has been worse? You have been doing quite a bit of it since we set out from Minas Tirith, lass. No wonder you look to be skin and bones. That cannot be healthy for the babe, can it be?"

I again stifled an urge to scream. I felt like yelling at him that it was I who would be shortchanged, but decided to tell him in a gracious manner instead. "Nature has a way of giving the baby inside the mother what it needs. Even if the mother is starving, the baby receives what little nutrition she gets until she can support it no more. As long as I can eat at least one meal a day, the baby gets adequate nourishment, I believe."

"Think of it as a small parasite, Gimli," Elladan put in, with a smile.

Even I smiled at that comment. I wanted to lay down where I sat, but I knew if I did, I would give in to sleep once more. I continued smiling, thinking about the little 'parasite' I was harboring under my heart. I could feel the baby squirming lightly within my belly all the time now, and in fact, my belly was growing. It was a blessing that my leggings had a drawstring at the top, because I was having to tie them more loosely every day. The bottom fastenings on my tunic were becoming snug as well, and it would not be long before it would have to remain open, showing everyone the state of my condition. Embarrassing as that thought was, it was reality, and I may as well face it now.

I evidently did not resist the urge to recline, because some time later, I awoke to the sound of the others talking and laughing as they sat eating and drinking a midday repast. I was lying curled on my side facing the others, right where I had been sitting. Of course my emergence from sleep could not occur unnoticed.

"She lives!" Elrohir exclaimed.

"Our luck fails us again," Legolas said dejectedly.

Elladan cuffed him lightly in the jaw, just enough to show his disapproval.

Gimli rose and said, "Let us be about our business. I grow tired of this mean spirited Elf."

We all rose, and to my surprise, Legolas had the grace to look almost ashamed of himself. We hadn't been stopped long, so we hadn't taken the tack off the horses, we had just loosened cinches and allowed them to wander as they would. We whistled them back and got them ready for riding again.

"We are calling an early day of it, Maeren," Elrohir said. "Just a bit further, only a couple of leagues away, there is a stand of trees. See it? Over there?" At my nod, he continued. "There is a stream—and a pond—as well. Elladan and I rode all night, and our horses could use the rest, so we think it a likely place to stay for the night. That is where we are headed." I wondered to myself if he was more concerned about the fact that I couldn't seem to stay awake to ride or about them and their tired horses, but decided to say nothing. Truth be known, I welcomed an early stop.

I got atop my mare and rode with the others to the small copse of trees. It was just large enough to hide the most wonderful pond, which was separate from the stream that ran several yards away. It was an idyllic spot and I wanted to hug Elrohir for finding it, but decided against it. Who knew what I would get myself into, doing things such as that. _Eru help us all!_

I took care of my Dori, taking off her tack, and then brushing her until she shone even more than she did before, if that was possible. I believed I would forever marvel at her beauty and her complete blackness. I leaned my face against her great neck, feeling her muscles flex beneath my cheek. The sheer power of her was awesome, yet she was so gentle with me, as if she knew she could squash me to mush, but still she chose not to.

I truly did love this horse. I had never had a horse of my own. I had been busy doing mostly 'girl' things as I grew up, helping my mother inside the house. After her death, I was taught some basic self-defense and how to saddle and bridle a horse—some of the simple things one needed to know to get along in the world. And Dustin was forever showing me how to do things. Anything I showed interest in doing, he would teach me to do. I must admit though, sometimes, I would merely feign interest just to be near him. I especially liked the archery lessons he used to give me. They inevitably ended inside the house, instead of outside where they began. I shivered, which reluctantly brought me back to the present. Giving Dori a final pat, I stepped away from her and stowed her brush in the saddlebag where it belonged.

It was past time to seek relief, so to speak, in the bushes, so I made my way into the thicket to find a likely spot. As soon as I was finished, I decided to visit the pond. Just before I broke into the clearing around the small body of water, I spied Elrohir and Legolas walking along the edge of it, talking. I knew I should not eavesdrop. I knew I shouldn't. But I did anyway. And it turned out to be a good thing I did.

"Tell me, Legolas," Elrohir said. "Why do you treat Maeren with such scorn? What has she done to you that would cause you to act the way you do toward her?"

"Well, first of all," Legolas said, "she irritates me. I know not why this is so, but it is so. I simply do not like her." Legolas dropped his eyes to a stone he had picked up from the ground, in preparation of skipping it over the pond I supposed. So far, I had not heard anything I didn't suspect already. "It is because of her that—" He stopped in mid sentence, and threw the stone across the surface of the water, skipping it at least five times before it landed on the opposite bank.

"Are you going to finish the statement you were going to make?" asked Elrohir curiously. "You have piqued my interest and have my full attention." He paused for a few seconds more. "Do not make me beat it out of you."

Legolas smiled at Elrohir's jest and said, "I do not know how to voice what it is I am feeling." He paused for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. "It has to do with Estel and my esteem for him, I think." Legolas walked a short distance away and fingered a cattail that graced the bank of the pond. "I forget that he is not an Elf, and I cannot understand how he came to betray Arwen the way that he did. I tend to forget that he is Human, and has not the same instincts or needs as Elves. And—Maeren being with child makes me mindful of just how Human and how mortal Aragorn is. Humans have children; the children grow up quickly, become men and women, and then they die. When I look at Maeren, I am reminded that neither Aragorn—nor Arwen—will live on with me to the end of time. It grieves me deeply." Legolas' voice was tremulous with emotion. His pain was etched on his face. _Well, now I knew. This I could at least understand. It didn't make it any easier, but at least I could understand it._

"Legolas," Elrohir said with compassion, "Most of those things you just listed are not Maeren's fault. She did not make Estel mortal, nor did she force him to compromise his bond with Arwen. He made his own choices in regard to that. Believe me when I tell you that I know exactly how you feel about Aragorn's—and now Arwen's—mortality. It is a grievous thing to ponder. That is why I choose not to ponder it often or for long." I could hear the anguish in Elrohir's voice. My heart clenched in my chest, and I felt tears in my eyes.

"I suppose you are right about that," Legolas said, "but that still doesn't help me with the fact that Maeren irritates me. She makes me want to hurt her and I mean physically hurt her. I know not what to do about that, besides try to avoid her at all costs." _Well, if that is the way you really feel, I will definitely avoid you as well, my prince!_

"I suppose that beats the alternative, which is beating her," Elrohir said, laughing. "Seriously, Legolas, I do know the grief you feel. I and my whole family feel it as well. I wish I could say it would temper with time, but I fear time will only increase its bitterness. We will merely have to depend on each other when we feel ourselves needing solace, that is all. It just will not do to beat on hapless female healers who happen to be heavy with our brethren's child." They both laughed at that and I even stifled my laughter. That was all I needed. To be found eavesdropping on Legolas. I think he would indeed beat me if he found me doing such a thing.

Elrohir's face took on a serious note. "Legolas, the things you have been saying to her are completely lacking in character. You must cease."

"I know, Elrohir," Legolas replied. "I hear myself saying the words and cannot believe it is I who is saying them. Perhaps now that I have unburdened my heart, I will be able to hold my tongue. I promise to try."

"That is all I ask, my friend," Elrohir said.

I did not wait to hear more. I had heard all I needed or wanted to hear. I now knew why Legolas had such a problem with me. I reminded him of two of his dearest friends' mortality. There was certainly nothing I could do about that. All I could do was continue to persevere despite him. Perhaps he was right, and now that he was aware of why he berated me, he would be able to curtail the urge to do so. I knew not and was tired of thinking about it. I was tired of thinking about anything. _Come to think of it, I was just plain tired._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_


	22. Ruses and Rites

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The teasing and practical jokes, in which the twins and Legolas had begun to indulge themselves, were beginning to wear me down. Even though Arwen had warned me of the pranks that would be played in order to embarrass or frustrate me, I was still finding myself falling prey to those wicked Elves' imaginations. Anything they could think up that may bother me, they visited upon me mercilessly.

We went through the nudity antics the very first night after the twins had joined us. I did admirably on that test. I had been subject to this type of 'humor' many times by my heartless brothers as I was growing up. They delighted in hearing me scream when they would disrobe to bathe. Neither did they respect my privacy, and many were the times that I was in tears because they had taken my clothes while I was in the tub. I was just beginning to 'blossom' into womanhood, so I was naturally very self-conscious.

None of these shenanigans took place while my mother was living. My brothers knew she would skin them alive were they to show themselves in that condition in her presence, or mine, for that matter. After being traumatized by this many times, and going to my father in tears to complain, he gave me some sage advice. 'Maeren,' he would say, 'the more you scream and cry, the more they will torment you. If you act as if you are not troubled, they will cease nettling you. If you do not react, you take all their fun away.' It took several more episodes before I was able to ignore them when they tried to have their fun at my expense. Eventually, I mastered myself and was victorious. They ceased to bother me with their nudity. They simply found other ways to harass me.

I was stoic when first Elrohir, followed by Elladan, stripped down to nothing to indulge themselves in a bath in the nearby stream. At first I wasn't sure if they had evil intent, but a few furtive glances from beneath my nearly closed lashes, proved that devilry was in the making. I had brought a book of poetry with me to read during quiet times during the journey, so I simply picked up my book and buried my nose in it. Gimli watched their antics, while he enjoyed a smoke after our evening meal. After the twins had gone to bathe, he looked at me, shaking his head. He knew as well as I did, that they were merely being facetious. Legolas waited until I had put the book down to fetch my water skin, and then he too, disrobed to follow the twins down to the stream. This time, I raked his naked form from top to bottom with my gaze, and then smiled, winking at him in a most beguiling way. If he thought me a whore, I may as well act as one while he was around. I believe I won this little skirmish in the ongoing war of pranks. He looked disconcerted by my gaze. I probably just sealed my fate as far as him thinking me a tramp, but either way, it mattered not. I don't think he would ever like me in any case.

They had lots of fun sneaking up on me. I took this in stride also, but I was startled almost every time they pulled this prank. However, I didn't rise to their baiting, I simply smiled and thought to myself about how much satisfaction I would take in having my revenge.

This morning I decided enough was enough. I was near a tree under which I had placed my valise and other belongings for the night, preparing to pack up for the day's journey. I was bending at the waist, rummaging through my things, when Elladan suddenly spoke to me and poked me in the ribs, just to make sure he had truly surprised me—and he had. The bag I was searching through was, unfortunately, under a low-hanging branch, and when Elladan scared me, I suddenly lifted up, and banged the back of my head on the limb. I did see stars, but decided to play this my way. I dropped like a rock and lay still. In a heartbeat, the Elf was down on the ground next to me smoothing my hair back from my forehead with one hand, and cradling my bruised noggin in the other. I stayed like that for a few minutes, all the while, Elladan was stroking my forehead and calling my name softly. The others had begun to gather around us as well. I couldn't hold out for long and I began to smile. I winked open first one eye, and then the other, then burst out laughing. The expression of utter panic on Elladan's face was comical. I thought at first he was going to drop my head onto the ground, but he found the humor in my retaliation. He smiled and then started laughing. "That was good, lady," he said. "Very good." I knew I had won at least one little battle in our ongoing war.

We finished breaking camp and began the day's ride. It was just before the sun was directly overhead, when Elladan called a halt. It was always one of the Elves who directed us on our journey. I didn't sense any temper from Gimli over his not being consulted about things, so I surmised he was used to this arrangement. He didn't say and I didn't ask.

A meal of dried meats and some fruit was set out, and we sat at various places within easy proximity of each other. I tended to migrate to the outskirts of the party. I know not when this began—probably from the very first day. Gimli had traveled in Legolas' company many times apparently and they enjoyed an easy camaraderie. A person could tell they were good friends. They jested with one another and carried on small verbal skirmishes. Legolas was evidently great friends with Elrohir and Elladan, and he tended to gravitate toward them when we stopped. I felt as if I was intruding, especially with Legolas. After our little spat, and my apology, as well as what I witnessed at the pond a few days ago, we agreed to disagree. He no longer engaged in petty insults or peevish acts to try to needle me. Oh he did team up with the twins in their ongoing pranks, but it wasn't the mean spirited things he was doing before. I really do not know if his opinion of me had changed at all, but there was nothing I could do for that.

I was sitting idly, eating an apple and reading my book, when I nodded at Elladan who had seated himself beside me. He had announced his approach this time, by whistling a merry tune as he came near me. I smiled to myself remembering my hard won victory. My hand was massaging the knot on the back of my head—my winner's trophy, as it were.

"Would you like a bit of help with that?" he asked.

I looked at the apple I was eating, then glanced at my book. I was puzzled and frowned. "Help with what?" I asked skeptically.

He laughed. "Only with the bump on your head—which I caused—and which I am sorry for causing," he said.

"It is really nothing," I replied. "It only hurts a little. No harm done."

"Even still," he said, "I am responsible and I would feel better if you would allow me to help you."

"What could you do to help?" I asked. "There's really no remedy for a bruise, except a poultice of some kind, and I would just as soon not have you in my hair, if you don't mind," I said.

He laughed again, and answered, "I have not the potent gifts of my father, but I have some healing ability. I could make the swelling lessen and the pain dull, if you would allow me to."

I was not going to turn down a chance to see a bit of Elven magic performed, even if it was on me, but I was wary of him still. "How do I know you will not visit some harm upon me—play another prank at my expense?" I asked. "How do I know you are not just saying this to see if I will fall for another falsehood?"

"Would I do that?" he asked in mock innocence. "I am offended that you would think such a thing."

"Right," I said, returning my attention back to my book. "I think I shall take my chances with the bruise. Thanks anyway."

"I promise I will not hurt you, embarrass you, or do anything else you may deem deceitful," he said solemnly. "You have my word of honor."

"All right, Elladan," I said. "But if this is some sort of jest, I promise you I will not be bested. You will definitely rue the revenge I will seek."

"There will be no need for revenge," he promised, "I will be on my best behavior. And when I have finished, the ease of your pain will be proof that I did not mislead you."

"All right," I said. "Do your worst—I mean your best."

Elladan stood, then lowered himself back to the ground, sitting behind me. He placed his hands on either side of my head. He was very gentle, but I still had a bad feeling that he was merely toying with me. I sat there, waiting for I know not what, when I suddenly felt a warmth seeping from his hands, crawling slowly through my scalp. At first it itched, a tingling sort of feeling. But after mere seconds, the warmth blossomed, seeming to permeate my mind, bringing peace and tranquility into my soul. I closed my eyes, and it seemed as if I lost consciousness. I suddenly heard Elladan call my name softly. I was lying on the grass, looking up at the sky, feeling the sun on my face and loving life in general, and Elladan in particular. _He was good at this, whatever this was!_

I started to sit up, but his hand on my shoulder stopped me. "Just lie there for a few more minutes," he advised. "It will work better and the effects will be greater the longer you are relaxed after the treatment."

So I stayed prone, lying there quietly in the grass, basking in the sunlight as a cat may do, sitting on a windowsill in someone's home. It felt so good, this peace and tranquility. I had been through so much stress for the past few weeks, I had despaired that I may ever feel peaceful again. I finally opened my eyes, to look up into the smiling face of Elladan.

"Thank you Elladan," I said dreamily. "I know not what you did, but it was certainly what this healer would have ordered."

"I would accept your thanks, Maeren," he said, "but I did naught. It was Elladan who eased your pain, not I." Elrohir winked at me, stood and offered me a hand up. I squinted at him, trying to frown, but failed, and took his proffered hand.

_The time for retaliation was drawing close. Very close._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

I was indeed very thankful for the 'treatment' which Elladan had bestowed on me, but I was not sure it was payment enough for all the bother he and the other Elves continued to inflict on me throughout the remainder of the day. Oh, there was nothing major done to me, just small things, like moving my water skin when I wasn't looking, and placing it somewhere it wouldn't ordinarily be. Things of that nature. Childish things that wore on one's nerves after a day in the saddle. So after we'd had our evening meal and were beginning to settle in for the night, they finally pushed me too far.

I had gone to pay my final respects to nature for the night and when I returned, I could find my bedroll nowhere. I knew immediately it had been helped in its escape by an Elf or three. Since I had no mind to spend any time searching for it at all, I decided it was time for my fine Elven friends to meet my cousin.

I strode to the saddle that had been on my horse and removed Jonas from the horn. I didn't trudge or stomp, I just walked as I normally would. I brought Jonas over, still covered in his pillowslip shroud, and sat down by a large, flat rock, which was conveniently on the skirt of our camp. I thanked Eru for placing an altar here for my use. It would enhance the effect I hoped to achieve on the Elves of our party.

I decided to do it up right, so I pulled a shawl out of my valise that I had tucked inside of it before I left Minas Tirith. Coincidentally, the shawl was black and fringed, and quite adequate in adding a bit of the macabre to my scene. If only I had brought some candles to add to the aura of magic I wished to channel. Oh well, no matter. I began dusting at the dirt surrounding my 'altar', and, glancing out of the corner of my eye, made sure I was being observed by at least one Elf at our campsite. I was triply blessed - there were three Elves observing my actions. From the looks of things, they were trying very hard to keep me from seeing that they were watching me. If only I had thought to bring some candles. That would send them over the edge, if this little act had any effect on them at all. Then I remembered, I had brought some. They were in the bag I had brought, along with my valise. There were candles, some herbs, a sharp knife, needle and thread—all the things I should need if my healing services were called for during this journey. Oh, this was going to be fun. _Bless you, Arwen._

I rose and retrieved my bag from the pile of gear that had been stowed on the packhorse. Returning to my makeshift altar, I stopped a few feet away and folded my arms over my chest. I closed my eyes and chanted a few Rohirric curses that came to mind. _That was certainly fitting for my little act, was it not? _I ceased chanting, did a quarter-bow from the waist and approached the altar. I rummaged through my bag and retrieved the candles and a small packet of Dog Rose hips, that had been seeded and pulverized into a powder. I tucked the envelope into the pocket of my tunic and walked to the fire with the tapers. Kneeling on one knee, I placed the wick of one candle into the flame—continuing my Rohirric verse—until the wick caught, then I stood once more. Holding my hand around the flame to keep the candle lit, I walked back to the boulder I was decorating. I ran the nether end of the unlit candle through the flame of the other, then placed it on the rock, adhering it to the surface with its melted wax. I lit it, then ran the end of the candle I was still holding over the flame of the other, then stuck it to the altar as well.

It was now time for Jonas to make his debut in this little charade of mine. I knelt before the altar, sitting back on my heels. I reverently lifted Jonas in his pillowslip shroud and closed my eyes, again murmuring every Rohirric curse word that I knew. My voice grew louder, and as I slipped the shroud from Jonas, I reverently draped the shawl over him, closed my eyes, and softly chanted in Rohirric, the words to a childhood song I knew. I placed the veiled Jonas upon the altar between the candles. Jonas truly looked evil peeking through the sheerness of the shawl.

I forced myself not to break into peals of laughter. I distinctly heard murmuring from across the campsite. Gimli was the only one who was not surprised. Earlier, when the Elves had been out hunting for our supper, I had told him I was going to perform a short play sometime soon. I assured him to not believe a thing he was going to see me do. I was simply getting revenge on the Elves we were traveling with. From the look on his face when I told him, I am not sure if he was looking forward to it or not. I think he was growing tired of all our little games. Poor Gimli. A decent mature Dwarf, in with a slew of children and their shenanigans. However, he did promise to play along, and above all, would not give me away.

I could hear the Elves as they spoke quietly to each other, questioning my actions.

"What is she doing?" Elladan asked quietly.

"Whatever it is, it looks evil," was Elrohir's reply.

"I am not surprised by anything she might do," was what Legolas added.

I turned my head toward the Elves, and said, "If you do not mind, I am performing a ritual here and if you are not quiet, it will all be for naught."

This piqued Elrohir's curiosity. I had been observing the twins these past few days, trying to find various ways to tell them apart. They may have looked identical, but their personalities were very different. Elladan was the more reserved of the two, but he was reserved in a sneaky sort of way. He wasn't above pulling pranks on me, that's for sure. Elrohir was curious and that was something to which I could really relate. I could see the inquisitiveness behind his eyes, when he wasn't sure about something and wanted to know all of its secrets. Of course knowing these personality traits was not helpful, unless they were speaking. I still had a way to go as far as determining which twin was which in a more practical manner.

I turned my attention back to my altar, closed my eyes, and began chanting in Rohirric once again. I retrieved the envelope of powdered Dog Rose Hips from my pocket and began sprinkling it over Jonas. As I sprinkled and chanted, I spoke the names of each of the Elves intermittently throughout my chanting. This got them murmuring even more.

Elrohir could stay his curiosity not one minute more and finally approached me and my altar. I was watching from the corner of my eye, so just before he reached me, I thrust out my hand, palm first, and without looking at him said in a perilously quiet voice, "Come no closer, lest you be caught in the magic." I wanted to squeal with laughter when Elrohir dropped in his tracks, landing cross-legged, sitting on the ground a few feet away from me. I do not know what kept my face straight. I was hysterical inside. I was so close to ruining my prank that it just wasn't funny.

As my victim sat there enthralled by what I was doing, I began chanting the words to a Rohirric lullaby that mothers often sing to their children to quiet them for sleep at night. I continued in this vein for a few minutes more, then slowly tapered my voice to first a whisper, then I stopped speaking completely. I bowed my head momentarily, trying to gain control over my hilarity, then rose to my knees. I leaned over the altar and lifted Jonas from where he rested, and held him aloft for a few seconds, slowly divesting him of his veil. I then retrieved his pillowslip and I enshrouded my cousin once more. As soon as I had reverently laid him aside, I blew out both candles and removed them from the altar. I gathered the shawl, folded it, and then returned it and the candles to my bags.

Since I had no bedroll to retreat to, I had nowhere else to go than to the fire, so I sat beside Gimli. As soon as I sat, he looked at me warily and scooted over a foot or two. I tried not to laugh.

"Gimli," I said, trying not to sound too offended, "you have naught to fear. You heard not your name mentioned in the rite did you?"

A look of relief overtook his face. _He was good at this._ He scooted back to sit beside me once again.

"Come to think of it, lass," he said with a nod, "I did not hear myself mentioned by name. I only heard Elvish names mentioned, I believe."

"That is right, Gimli," I replied. "You have naught to fear."

"Maeren," Gimli said with curiosity, "if I may ask, and not be considered rude, where did you learn such a—thing?"

In a voice one would use to tell a frightening story to wayward children, I said, "Once there came to Rohan a troupe of traveling Haradrim, and with them, they had a soothsayer. My brothers had been harassing me mercilessly for the entire day the troupe was present in Edoras, and the soothsayer took notice when my youngest brother—you know the one I told you about, Small Saelden—pushed me down and I skinned my knee. As I sat there crying, the soothsayer took pity on me. He helped me up, tended to my hurt, and taught me the rite you just saw me perform. He even gave me the idol that I had upon the altar there."

"And is that how Small Saelden got his name?" Gimli wanted to know.

"Yes, it actually is," I replied. "When the soothsayer taught me how to do the rite, he demonstrated it by performing it on my youngest brother. I knew not that a person could shrink once they grew to a certain height. My how the other boys teased him."

"So," Gimli said, "does the idol have special powers by itself, or only if you speak the words of the rite?"

"That, my friend," I said confidentially, "is a mystery to me. I really know not. But I am careful with it. I never let it out of my sight. I would sincerely hate for something evil to befall someone accidentally."

"And the powder you were sprinkling," he said, "what exactly was _that_, now?"

"That was Witch's Brier," I replied. And that was probably the only thing in this entire farce that had even a grain of truth to it. Along with Dog Rose Hips, Witch's Brier was another common name for the herb.

"Interesting," he said. "All right. Only one more question."

"Yes, Gimli?" I asked with innocence.

"Just how long are we going to continue this charade? Do you think we have punished the Elves enough yet? Do you suppose they will cease needling you night and day now?"

"I do not know, Gimli," I said, "but I certainly am tired, and would definitely appreciate having my bedroll down by the warm fire, all fluffed and cozy. Do you think that would be too much to ask?"

"Personally, Maeren," Gimli replied, "I think you do not ask enough of the Elves after all they have been doing to torment you, but if you believe justice has been done, then so be it."

"All right, all right," Elladan said with a grin. "We get it." He approached the fire with my bedroll, made as if to throw it in, but instead set it down in front of the blaze and spread it out, plumping it here and there, dusting it off as he rid it of wrinkles. Elrohir brought my water skin over, knelt on one knee, and proffered it to me with a flourish. Legolas pursed his lips, then nudged Elladan out of the way. He felt around over one end of the bedroll, and discovered what he was looking for. He delved his hand between the blankets and pulled out a small bundle of cloth. He no sooner got it clear of the blanket than he dropped it with a curse, slinging it aside, and putting an apparently injured finger into his mouth.

"Thorns—for the rose," he said devilishly.

_And I thought the prank had gone on long enough. Well I was wrong. Very wrong._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
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	23. Daggers and Dreams

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

After my little performance last night, I woke up on the apprehensive side of my bedroll the next morning.   I opened my eyes, looking all around me before I moved so much as a finger.  I halfway expected to find myself tied to a tree or floating in the nearby pond.  Perhaps floating in some pond—unless I was dead, and I doubted the Elves would go_ that far—would be a bit far fetched, but with Elves involved, who knew what was possible?  So far, I could discern no evil deed done to my person.  I cautiously pulled back the blanket that covered me and sat up.  I looked around again, both to the left and to the right, but still found nothing amiss.  I checked around to see if I could make out the other members of our party at various places around the campsite.  I could see Gimli.  I could __hear Gimli; his snoring was always a dead giveaway.  The other three had stirred up the fire, and were sitting around it talking quietly.  _Amazing._  _It had to be too good to be true.__

I rose, and took myself to greet nature for the first time today.  It was a glorious morning, and I drank in the sunrise.  The colors were the richest of pinks and oranges and reds.  They filled my soul with joy.  I wondered how long it would take the Elves to empty me of it.

I stretched and breathed deeply of the cool morning air, and then simply stood, looking out at the picture nature had painted in the eastern sky.  I was taken by surprise and gasped as a stab of pain lanced through my lower abdomen.  I doubled over with the pain, but it went away as quickly as it came.  It took me a few moments to catch my breath, and it left me feeling a bit weak and disoriented.  It concerned me and worried me—for my baby.  I should not be having this type of pain.  I sincerely hoped this did not occur again.  It was very alarming.

I went back to the campsite and returned to my bedroll.  I sat down, and then lay back down, covering myself up once again, snuggling beneath my blanket.  I was worried, and as I lay there, the stab came again, bringing tears to my eyes, this time.  Again, it came and went.  It was unlike the pain of childbirth, for it came and went with too much speed.  So I lay there, waiting for it to strike me again, but it came no more.  I continued to lie there for another few minutes, and I no longer hurt, but I did not feel right.  Perhaps if I just lay quietly for a bit longer, I would feel better.  It wasn't long before I had company.

"Is anything wrong, Maeren?" Elladan asked.  "You do not look well."

"No, not anything I can put a finger on.  I just feel a bit puny this morning," I replied.  I knew not which twin this was, but I had learned that to simply act confident when dealing with them tended to make them think twice about pulling a prank on me.

"Are you troubled again with that 'morning sickness' human woman are afflicted with?" he asked.

"No," I answered, "for once, that is not the problem.  I just do not feel well."

"Perhaps we should stay here for the day?" he asked.

"No," I replied.  "I'll be fine in a little while.  Just let me rest for about half an hour, and then I am sure I will be all right.  We will be fine to go on today."

"Since you are a healer with a woman's condition, I leave you to know what is best for yourself.  Tell us when you believe you are ready to be going."  With that, the Elf rose and made his way silently back to the fire to join the rest of our party, for by now Gimli had risen and joined the others.

It did not take long before I was asleep once again, for before I knew it, I was again awakening.  I did feel refreshed, so I decided to start my morning anew.  I rose and made my way cautiously to the fire, for fear there may still be something cooking.  The others were nowhere to be seen, but I could hear their voices in the near vicinity.  They were probably at the stream, up to something or other.  I just hoped the something had nothing to do with me.

I felt fine, as I took a mental inventory of my physical well-being.  My stomach wasn't upset nor did I have any pain—I seemed completely normal.  I sat down near the fire and poured what I certainly prayed was tea.  It was.  I thanked Eru and dosed it with plenty of honey, before I allowed it to cool somewhat and drank it as quickly as its heat would allow.  I heard a Dwarf approaching, for there could be no mistaking Gimli's movements for those of an Elf.

"Maeren," Gimli said as he sat, "how are you faring?  Elladan said you were trying to go sour on us this morning."

"Gimli," I said, feigning hurt, "you speak of me as if I was a bucket of old milk!"

"Forgive me, sweet lass," Gimli laughed, not at all put off.  "Now, humor an old Dwarf.  How fare you now that you have rested a bit more?"

"I am feeling very well, Master Gimli, thank you very much," I replied with a smile.

"And for that, I am grateful," Gimli said with a bow of his head.

"I hear laughter," came an Elven voice, one belonging to a son of Elrond, though to which one, I knew not.  "I will take that to mean that our fair healer is hale once more, and ready to ride with the wind, to make up for lost time."

"She is, indeed," I stated.  "I need only to saddle my trusted mare, and hop upon her back."

"You are well ahead of the game, it would seem," Gimli stated.  "The Elves have been splashing in the stream—bathing they are calling it, though it looked suspiciously like playing to me!"

By this time, the other two Elves of our group had joined the rest of us at the campsite, with dripping hair—but clothed, thank Eru.

"Gimli," Legolas said, "you are fortunate that all three of us do not descend upon you and toss you into the stream clothes and all, for the stench of you is becoming unbearable!"

Gimli drew himself up to his full height, placed his hand on the head of his axe and said in a conversational tone, "If you would care to try, Master Elf, proceed in doing so."

All the Elves laughed, but did nothing except disperse, going their separate ways, and then readying themselves to be off for the day's ride.  I rose as well, for even though I had boasted that I was ready, I still had a few things left undone.

It did not take any of us long though, and we were once again on our way.  It was indeed, a glorious morning.  The sun had completed its initial rise into the sky, which was the richest of blues.  Clouds were being shaped into fluffy drifting sculptures in the heavens, and I trusted Dori to follow the others while I decided what forms the clouds were taking at any given moment.  It was a game I used to play after my mother had died, when I was young and felt alone and sad.  Today it was a fitting game, for I was a bit melancholy.   We were just leaving the borders of Rohan, and were fast approaching the Gap.  We would pass through it today, in fact.  I was departing from the place I had always called home, for a place I would probably never call home.  A place I had never even heard of until a little over a month ago.

We rode fast and hard for a few hours, until the noon sun was directly overhead.  Elrohir called a halt, and we let the horses rest after we loosened their girths a bit.  We only stopped for perhaps half an hour, if that, and then we were again on our way.  We rode in this manner for the remainder of the day, passing through the Gap of Rohan about mid afternoon.

It was almost dark when we finally halted, having taken two short stops for various necessities during the afternoon.  A fire was made, but no game was killed.  We ate from what we had brought with us, some dried meat, fruit, and bread, with a bit of cheese.  The fire was merry, and the Elves were at their best, as usual.

Elrohir was sharpening his dagger, and since he had lost some sort of wager to Elladan and Legolas, he was sharpening theirs as well.

Glancing up from his work, he said, "Maeren, get your dagger, and I will sharpen it with the rest of these, while I am in the mood for sharpening."

"There is no need, Elrohir" I replied.  "My dagger is razor sharp.  Its edge is keen, I can assure you."

He looked at me, his brows drawn together skeptically and said, "I hate to tread upon your sensibilities, my lady, but I doubt it would pass my inspection, were I inspecting it."

I smiled and shook my head, thinking to myself just how foolish he would look if I presented Aragorn's dagger to him now.  It would serve him right, for being such an ass.  If he hadn't added his next sentence, I would have let it alone.

"Maeren," he said, "are you just too exhausted from the pace we set today?  Can you not rise to retrieve it?"  He was making fun of me, and the last part of his sentence was said in such a pitying tone, I almost wished to slap him.

"No, Elrohir," I replied with a smile.  Reaching to my belt, I released Aragorn's dagger from its sheath, and handed it to the soon-to-be-abashed Elf.  "I simply do not believe this dagger needs honing, that is all."

Elrohir took the dagger and inspected the edge, noting its sharpness, and as he did so, noticed also the runes etched upon the blade and the carvings on its hilt.  His face paled, it did not redden, as I expected it to.  He knew exactly whose dagger it was, and it didn't embarrass him, it shocked him.  I wondered why, but he did not hasten to explain, he simply handed the dagger to Elladan without a word.

Elladan accepted the weapon silently, for his twin's reaction had already alerted him that something was wrong.  He turned the dagger over in his long fingers, tracing the etchings reverently, as if their meaning told of something blessed.  

"Estel gave this to you?" Elladan asked me incredulously.

"Yes," I said quietly.  "Just before we left.  He wanted to make sure I was well-armed."

"You certainly are that," Legolas put in.

I was surprised to hear a comment from that Elf, but it mattered not to me.  What mattered to me was why this dagger was so important to the sons of Elrond—and why the fact that Aragorn had given it to me was so hurtful to them.

Elrohir seemed to come back to himself suddenly.  

"Well, you are right," he said, as he handed the dagger back to me.  "It does not need sharpening.  As Estel has always known, it has been kept in its finest form his whole life.  It is of the finest of Elven-made weapons, and one does not treat it with disrespect.  I hope that you guard it well."

"I have," I said, still puzzled.  "I can see it is known to you.  What know you of its origin?"

"It was our father's," Elrohir answered.  "He gave it to Estel when he left Imladris with the Ringbearer.  Before that, Father had it his entire lifetime.  It was given to him by the High King Gil-Galad, during the First Age—and I can see that has no significance to you whatsoever, does it?"  He said the last in a matter-of-fact tone, not accusingly, nor with any scorn.

"And that is why it galls you that Aragorn has given it to me, is it not?" I said, without malice and with complete sincerity.

"I mean no disrespect to you Maeren—" Elrohir started.

"None is taken, Elrohir," I interrupted him.  "I cannot believe Aragorn would give me such a priceless heirloom, and not even tell me the significance of it!  I know not what he thinks I have in my head, for he certainly does not believe it contains a brain!  Please take this back.  I have a perfectly adequate dagger in my bag that I can use, and it _does _need sharpening, for it is _not_ Elven made, and it does not keep an edge well at all!"

"What do you think, Elladan?" Elrohir asked his brother.  "Do you think we should do this?"

"Estel meant for her to have it, Elrohir," Elladan replied.  "I am not sure we have a right to go against his wishes."

"If I have any say in the matter," I piped in, "I want it no more.  I have no business with such a treasure, something that—while it is very beautiful—means very little to me—but means the world to your family, and to all Elves.  Please, take it with you to Imladris.  Keep it for when you see Aragorn again.  If you do not wish for your father to know of how Aragorn tosses about family heirlooms, I certainly will not inform him.  Please, you will be doing me a favor by taking it from me.  I have enough to worry about, without having to worry about losing something that cannot be replaced."

I took Elrohir's hand in mine and placed the dagger onto his upturned fingers.  I unfastened my belt, and removed the sheath from it, and handed that over as well.  I rose and retrieved my own trusty dagger from my bag containing my healing supplies.  I resumed my seat at the fire with the others, unsheathed my dagger and handed it to Elrohir.

"Now _this dagger, I would appreciate you sharpening," I said with a smile._

He accepted it and said, "I would be honored to do so, Maeren, and thank you for understanding.  I cannot begin to understand any human's mind, especially Estel's, but I believe his gift of the dagger to you probably has something to do with the child you carry.  I would guess it would have to do with the child being his firstborn.  I understand that is very important to human men, especially if the child happens to be male."

"But he does not even know if the child is a son as of yet, Elrohir," I said.  "Does not a gift such as this seem a bit premature?"

"Ah but you forget—Or perhaps you know not—of the Dunedain—" Elrohir rambled.

"You are confusing me, Elrohir," I said, blinking my eyes at him.

Elladan decided it was time for him to take over the explanations.

"Estel is a descendent of Numenor, Dunedain by birth," he said.  "Some of his people have the gift of foresight, and he is one of them.  Perhaps he _does know that you carry a son.  He has not told Elrohir or I of such a thing, but Estel can be rather closed-mouthed at times."_

Elrohir gave a huff of a laugh as he added, "That is putting it very mildly, if you ask me, Brother."

Elladan gave a curt nod of his head in agreement.  "Yes, that is rather an understatement, is it not?"

"Aragorn can see things before they have occurred?" I asked in wonder.

"Not as such," Elladan said, trying to explain this phenomenon in terms I could understand.  "The way he explains it to us is that it is more of a feeling; a passing idea.  That sort of thing.  But it is always a thing of which he is very confident."

"I certainly wish his foresight would have been working a bit better when we—" I broke off my statement, not even realizing before it was too late that I had been speaking out loud.  I looked down, and placing my elbows on my knees, I buried my hands in my hair, lacing my fingers over the back of my head.  I expected to hear raucous Elven laughter, but nobody laughed.  

"That is the strange thing with the foresight," Elladan continued, as if I hadn't said anything, "Estel never knows when it will manifest, and when it will not."

"We used to tease him," Elrohir continued the conversation. "We would tell him he was making things up.  Do you remember the shades of red he would turn in anger, Elladan?"

"It backfired badly once, though, did it not, Elrohir?" Legolas asked, laughing.  "When he told you a certain Elf loved you, and you thought you knew who it was?"

"Legolas," Elrohir warned, "do not even think to tell that story."

"I believe I would enjoy this story immensely," Gimli, who had been quite silent all this time, said with an evil grin.  "Please, Legolas do tell us."

"Unless he would savor sleeping with his eyes permanently _shut_, he will not dare to tell you," Elrohir said, with no teasing left in his voice.

"Oh Brother," Elladan said, trying to lighten his twin's mood a bit, "the story is not that bad—in fact, it is really pretty funny."  Elladan began laughing, unable to contain himself any longer.

I was beginning to wonder if Elrohir would indeed kill Legolas if he told the tale, and if so, if he would also kill Elladan if he laughed?  I was no longer sitting, cowered with my hands covering my head; I was once again a part of the group, thanks to Elladan and Elrohir.  They had quickly let my little slip of the tongue pass, much to my relief.  I watched the three Elves, and could tell that mischief was in the making, but whether or not it would be deadly, remained to be seen. 

Legolas and Elrohir were eyeing each other, Elrohir daring the Prince, and the royal one grinning like a demon about to unleash havoc on an unsuspecting innocent, if Elrohir could be compared to such a one.

"Let me see—" Legolas began.  "Estel told you an Elf loved you, and you told him to have her meet you by the fountain in the east grotto that same night."

By now, Elrohir was on his feet, as was Legolas.  Elrohir was slowly advancing, and Legolas was likewise retreating.

Legolas continued the tale, "He tried to tell you who it was, because he did not think you would truly wish to meet this Elf in the east grotto for the purposes you had in mind—that night, or any time—for that matter, but you would not listen to him." 

Elrohir was slowly inching closer to his prey, as his prey was fleeing him just as slowly.

"Estel told me who it was, so of course I _had_ to go watch the meeting, and we _had_ to tell Elladan.  All three of us went to the east grotto well before the meeting time, and waited for you and the Elf to appear.  And the look on your face, when you saw who it was!"  Legolas began laughing, and by now Elrohir was chasing him around the campsite.  I could feel the air whiff against my back as they flew past in their mad dash—Legolas fleeing, and Elrohir chasing.  By now, however, all the anger was gone from Elrohir, and he was laughing as well.  It was very refreshing to see the Elves acting so young at heart.

After a couple of laps around the campsite, the two Elves disappeared into the night, leaving their laughter echoing behind them.

Turning to Elladan, Gimli asked, "Who was this mysterious Elf that was in love with Elrohir?"

Elladan threw back his head and laughed.  When he had sobered enough to speak, he said, "It was a very nice, but very _male Elf, who had recently come to train with Father in the healing halls.  Estel had been studying with Father during one of this Elf's training sessions, and he 'sensed' this Elf's feelings for Elrohir.  And the rest you know."_

Gimli looked shocked, but then let out a hearty bellow of laughter.  He howled he was so filled with mirth.  I have to admit I was right there howling with him.  I cannot imagine such a thing, but in trying to imagine such a thing, I was left with some rather intriguing mental pictures.

It wasn't long before two very winded Elves returned to the campsite, each with the other's arm around his shoulders, and we all decided that dawn would be coming before any of us would be ready for it.  By mutual agreement, we decided to continue the pace we had set today—ride long and fast, for we were all becoming travel weary, yet we had leagues upon leagues yet to go.  With my little scare of this morning, I knew not if this was the wisest plan to follow.  On one hand, I very much needed to get where I was going, and relax and recline for the rest of my confinement.  On the other hand, what harm would I be doing to my baby, if I put my body through this rigorous ride, when it may be trying to tell me it really did not relish being put through such paces?  I decided to try the agreed-to plan, and if I had any more occurrences of the pain I had this morning, I would admit my weakness to the others, and we would simply have to slow down.  With that decided, I went to my bedroll, and lay down, after my obligatory call to nature was answered, of course.

It felt so good to lay down.  I felt my little bundle, as Aragorn had called the baby, squirming within my body.  Whatever had been stabbing through my abdomen this morning hadn't really affected the baby any, if all this movement was any indication.  He was certainly lively tonight that was for sure.  He.  Was the baby really a boy?  Did Aragorn really have foreknowledge of this?  I would have to ponder this some other time, for right now, I was much too tired.  Right now, I was going to sleep.  Right now.  Sleep.

                                                                ~ * ~                                                            

I was walking in a golden field in Rohan.  My Tristin was trotting a few feet before me and my husband was at my side, holding our sweet toddling daughter perched upon his shoulders, a chubby leg on either side of his neck.  He held on to each of her feet, periodically rubbing the bottoms of them against his stubbly chin, making her cover her mouth and squeal, as only a two year old girl-child can.  He turned his blue eyes on me, smiling because he knew I hated it when he made her scream so shrilly.  He stopped and pulled me to him, and kissed me soundly, our daughter's wet fingers twining in my hair.

We were then in the streets of Edoras, and the fire bells were ringing.  People were running in the direction of the stables, and Dustin was picking up his pace.  I was trying to keep up with him, but he was beginning to run.  I shouted at him to wait, and he stopped.   We were now right in front of the stables.  The water line was forming, and someone was shoving a bucket into my hands.  Tristin was walking towards the stable, and I grabbed for his tunic, stopping him where he stood.  

"You take one step further, young man," I said, "and I will tan your hide!  Now do not move from that spot!  I am speaking with your father."

Dustin had lifted our baby from his shoulders and gave her to me.  He started to walk away, but I grabbed his sleeve.

"What do you think you are doing, husband?" I screamed.  "Have you no sense?  You will not be going into that fire—not while I still breathe!"

"Maeren, your job is in the bucket line," he said calmly, "you know that.  Now go take the baby with you, and get in line.  Tristin and I are going to see to the horses.  When the fire is contained, we will meet you back here.  I love you."  With that, he kissed me, and was gone.  Tristin joined his father, and looked back at me in question, for I had told him not to move.  I smiled and waved at him.  Perhaps this dream would turn out differently than I thought it would.  It was, after all, a dream.  

We all know that our thought processes are very different in our dreams than they are in our reality, at least they are for most people.  That is the only explanation I have for my ridiculous behavior. In reality, had I known beforehand that my husband and son would be killed in this fire, being a sane woman, I would have naturally given them both sound knocks on the head and dragged them home.  I never would have just waved and told them goodbye.

But dreams, being what they are, have meanings of their own.  Sometimes their meanings are plain, and sometimes their meanings defy all attempts at solving their mysteries.  This dream was a mixture of I know not what.  Reality?   For bits of it did indeed happen.  Bits of it never happened and never will.  Still other parts may have contained things not directly spoken of, but whose presence in another time and place may someday be acknowledged.  I never had a daughter, but who is to say that I never will?

I stood in the water line, handing pail after pail of water towards the flames, and I watched as my husband and son led the mares and their foals from the burning stable.  How I wished they would come to me, and not return inside.  I knew they were going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  It was as if I was an observer of the scene, as well as being a part of it.  I watched as I called out to them, and Dustin waved to me.  He motioned for Tristin to join me, and when he didn't, he pushed him, knocking him down.  Dustin returned to the stable, and then Tristin followed.  Only this time, after Tristin returned to the stable, my precious toddling daughter—my sweet, dimpled blue eyed baby—ambled toward the stable door, calling for her daddy.  I rushed to go get her, but hands were on me, holding me back.  I screamed for her, but people just kept pushing buckets into my hands.  I watched as she disappeared into the stable door, and moments later, the whole building came crashing down, killing them all—my entire family—even my baby.

I screamed at that stable door as if it was a living thing, "NO!  You cannot take my baby, too!"

There really were hands on me, but they held no buckets.  They were Elven hands, and they were embracing me strongly, pulling me up to stand.  I was instantly awake, but the images were still scratched deeply into my mind, tormenting me.  I wanted to retch, so I fought with the Elf who was holding me, and finally managed to break free, running a short distance away.  I fell to my knees and gagged my heart out.

I retched until I thought my stomach would plop onto the ground, but still it was not enough to get the disgusting images purged from my mind.  The Elf had found me, and was kneeling beside me, supporting me and keeping my hair out of the vomit.  I finally sat back on my heels, running my hand across my mouth.  I looked at the Elf.

"Elladan?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, acknowledging his identity.

I could say no more, for my tears began to flow.  Elladan quickly helped me rise, and supporting me once again, led me away from the campsite.  I could not tell if the others had been roused by my outburst, but I could hardly see how they could not have been.  We walked a short distance away, and he stopped, turning me to face him.  I looked tearfully into his eyes, and like a stream after the spring thaw, my tears welled in my eyes, and ran down my cheeks.  He pulled me to him, holding my head against his chest.  He rested his chin in my hair, and stroked my back with one of his hands.

"Humans and their nightmares," Elladan said.  "Why did they give such a foul thing a name belonging to such a beautiful animal?"

I gave a small muffled laugh, but made no attempt to answer.  I had no words with which to speak.  

"It sometimes helped Estel to speak of the nightmares when they plagued him.  Does such speaking help you, Maeren?" he asked.

Again I could not answer.  I simply shook my head.  It had actually been a couple of weeks since I had wept, and I could honestly say that I had not missed it one little bit.

"I have the answer," he said quietly.  "Let us go back to the others, lay you back down—"

"No!" I said desperately.  "I still see it with my eyes open.  I dare not close them!"

"Maeren," Elladan scolded quietly, "let me finish.  I wish to ease your pain as I did when I caused you to bump your head.  Remember?"

Feeling contrite, I said, "I remember, and yes, that would be very nice.  I would appreciate it."

Giving me one final squeeze, he turned us around and headed us back to the campsite.  Once there, he helped me down to my bedroll, and actually tucked me in.  As soon as I was settled, he sat down beside my head, and after wiping the tears from my cheeks once more, he placed one hand on my forehead.    He covered my eyes, forcing me to close them, and I again soon felt the tingling emanate from the palm of his hand.  

I knew not what this was, besides Elven magic of course, but it certainly was something I would miss when my time with the Elves was over.  And Elladan's friendship was something else I would miss as well.  It felt good to have someone to rely on—well someone else, for I did have Gimli.  But Elladan so reminded me of having a brother, and it did feel good to have a brother around again.

_But since my eyes were shut, I did not see the tiny seeds of love begin to grow and send their shining light from Elven eyes down on me, as peace was restored within my tortured mind._

A/N: Dear readers,     I am sorry, but I have never been good with maps and mileage—or in this case, league-age.  I have no perception of how long this trip should take.  I have looked at the Atlas of Middle Earth, and the Appendices of the Lord of the Rings, to no avail.  I am hopeless in this area.  I am planning on it taking about two more weeks, for a total of a little over three weeks.  I hope that is close.  Sorry if I have estimated wrong.  It doesn't matter much anyway, because I am going to hurry it up a bit, I think.  There's only so much we can do on a prolonged camping trip, you know?  Till later....Puxinette


	24. Remembrances and Riverbanks

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

It seemed we had been forever riding. As much as I loved Dori, with her sure step and wonderful ride, I was very ready to reach my destination. When we had been traveling a little over two weeks, the twins informed me that we were about a week out of Imladris. I almost kissed them! However, since Legolas was standing right next to them, I was not so sure he wouldn't expect like treatment, and I knew I was not up to kissing _him_ just yet. Or—perhaps I would make the mistake of thinking he expected it and do so, and he would whip out one of those wicked looking white-handled knifes he wielded so expertly and gut me where I stood! I decided to keep my lips to myself.

No one ever mentioned the disturbance I caused on the night I had that horrible nightmare, much to my relief. In the first place, it was terribly embarrassing to have made such a scene, and in the second place, the fewer reminders I had of that night—and of that dream—the better. It was such a jumbled mess, but the images were clear enough, and whenever they came to mind, the anguish they caused made my heart race. My family still died and in the same manner. Even the daughter that didn't exist, unless she existed inside me right now, had been taken from me. Just thinking of it caused chills to chase each other up and down my spine as I rode.

Shaking my head to dislodge the thoughts of fire and death from my mind, I urged Dori faster, until I passed the Elves and Gimli in front of me. Overtaking them would no doubt be seen as a challenge, but so be it. Better that than have my mind languish and fester.

Would you not know it? Before I could count past five, the other three horses had overtaken me again. Males! Their competitiveness knew no bounds. I laughed, and one of the twins evidently heard. His head turned toward me, and when he saw my smile he smiled in return. He drew back on his reins just enough to join me behind the others. We were going too fast to speak coherently to each other, but the companionship was nice, and I found it somehow chased the evil thoughts from my mind. I was becoming rather fond of having Elves in my life. At least some Elves. I knew not if I would ever get used to Legolas. There was something about the Elven prince that confused and irritated me. If I said 'black', he said 'white'. When he led right, I went left. We were two opposites, that was all there was to it.

Oh well, for now I could enjoy the ride. I rode atop a glorious Rohirric black mare, and there was an end to this journey after all.

_Thanks be!_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

By this time we were traveling along a river the Elves referred to as the Bruinen. It was beautiful country—rich green woodland mostly, with some rolling countryside here and there amid the trees. But ever present was the singing of the river, and Elrohir explained to me that the river's name—Bruinen—meant Loudwater in the common tongue. And the river certainly lived up to its name. Its voice flowed constantly in the background and could get quite loud at times.

We stopped fairly early this day. It seemed the twins wished to hunt. Gimli had voiced a particular craving for pheasant, if it could be found. They assured him that if it could be found, they would be bringing it. I laughed at their boastfulness, but in reality it was no such thing. They were every bit as good with the bows as Legolas was, although I had been assured I had not seen the best shooting any of the Elves could accomplish. It seems their speed as well as their accuracy was also a sight to behold, but they had thus far not had the need to use such quickness to accomplish their goals. I simply nodded and smiled, allowing the males to strut for the female as they wished.

After the horses had been tended to, Gimli and I set up camp. Legolas had gone with Elladan and Elrohir on their hunt. We had devised a system by now that accomplished the deed efficiently. Gimli cleared the ground for a fire, and I gathered wood for it while he did so. Before long, we were sitting together before a cheerful crackling blaze, talking quietly together, as friends should do from time to time.

"Gimli," I asked, "will you be staying in Imladris for long after we arrive?"

"I think not," he replied. "Legolas and I will stay on a few days at the most. Then we will be off to that appalling Fangorn Forest. Aule curse me for agreeing to such a thing!"

"Gimli," I began hesitatingly, "if I might ask, what is so dreadful about this Fangorn Forest, that you wish not to go there? If it is so terrible, would not Legolas be wary of it?"

"That stupid Elf has not the good sense Iluvatar endowed upon him at birth, in this case lass," he replied testily. "It is said—and mind you, I have been in this forest before, so I know it is _more_ than just said—that this forest has eyes and ears; and things that should not be able, can walk and talk. Even Lord Celeborn, of Lothlorien—the Golden Wood, where the fairest of all that lives, the Lady Galadriel dwells—warned the fellowship not to tread amongst the twisted trees that grow there, if you can indeed call it growing. For some reason I do not recall, I promised the Elf to visit this becursed place, and I will not go back on my word, even though going to such an unholy site is well against my better judgment."

"Well then," I said with exaggerated seriousness, "may Aule go with you."

"I give you my thanks for that, lass," he said with like brevity. I smiled at him then and he chuckled good-naturedly.

The Elves fairly burst in on our quiet scene, scaring the life practically out of us, as usual. They so delighted in doing that. One of these days, I would get my revenge on them all, and it would fit the crime. They would know they'd been had—and Jonas would not need to help me, either.

They had indeed bagged a pheasant—two of them actually. I could already see the bird flying in all directions, so to speak, from around Gimli's person as he ate, and that brought a smile to my face. I would miss my dear Gimli when he did finally take his leave of me. However, it was inevitable. Life went on, and it wasn't as if I would never see him again. I would make him promise to visit me, wherever I may ultimately land. I could not bear the thought of not having him in my life. It was unthinkable.

Along with the pheasant, they had brought quail and grouse; enough it seemed, to feed a small army. We all set about preparing the poultry, and before long we were sharing a meal. Gimli looked lonely, sitting as he was at one end of the fire, but he had gotten used to it during the journey. We had all learned that to sit beside Gimli when dining, meant wearing bits of his meal. Besides, he was oblivious of our desertion of him. He was so engrossed in his eating he cared not if he had company.

After all was eaten, cleaned up and stored again, we talked and told stories, something we did almost every night. I generally listened to the 'men' talk of battles won, foes killed or weapons used or admired. At times they pressed me to speak of my home and family. I disliked doing so. It brought homesickness up to the surface of my heart, and the tears that waited behind the dike there, would rise and threaten to pour over the edge.

Tonight, however, it wasn't me speaking of my home that unsettled me, it was Elrohir and Legolas speaking of Aragorn and Arwen that bothered me. Had they simply been speaking of the couple's love for one another, or their marriage, it would not have mattered to me at all, but they were wondering just how long it was going to be before the pair would be parents. I know they did not mean to be making me feel uncomfortable, but it was having that effect on me just the same. I quietly excused myself and left the fire, finding my bedroll across the clearing a few short feet away.

I had not meant to cause a disruption, but I truly could not stay and listen any more. I felt awkward enough about my circumstances as it was; these sorts of reminders did not help me at all. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when I glanced up and found Elladan crouched before me, startling me yet again.

"Eru!" I said irritably. "You scared the life out of me! Would you please stop doing that?"

Elladan didn't say anything; he took my hand in his and led me into the thicket. We ended up beside the rushing water of the Bruinen. He sat down on the riverbank and I followed suit. The shore of the river gently sloped down to the water, and it invited one to lie upon its soft pallet of grass and find rest. However, I remained sitting, drinking in the cool dampness of the riverside.

The night was peaceful; only the crickets and frogs seemed to be restless, calling to mates scattered up and down the banks of the river—and of course the river itself, living up to its name, was, as always, singing its never ending song. The moon was not full, but it gave enough light to reflect off the water, making it look as if small pieces of glass were floating by quickly atop the swiftly rushing stream.

I let my chin drop to my chest in consternation, as I realized that eating my evening meal had taken up too much room in my expanding abdomen, and I had to loosen the string, which held my leggings closed at the waist. I could not let my vanity override my need for comfort for one more minute.

"Pretend you are not seeing me do this," I said, as I turned slightly away. There was no way he could not know what I was doing, but I had to keep some semblance of decorum about me.

"My lips are sealed," he replied. I glanced up to look at him. His expression was one of wonder. "You are growing," he added, as if mystified.

"Are you not the one who likened me to a kine not long ago?" I asked facetiously.

"Of course not," he said indignantly, "that was Elrohir!"

"Certainly it was!" I said with sarcasm. "I have learned to tell the two of you apart now, and it was indeed you who compared me to an ox."

"You are accusing me wrongly," he insisted, but he started laughing, so I knew I was right. But I'd had no doubt from the start.

"What a horrid woman I am," I said, "accusing an innocent man."

"Call me not a man," he said, looking as if he had swallowed a bug, "now you are insulting me."

"In that case," I said as I rose, "you surely must not want my company. I am but a female of the species."

Elladan quickly got up and grabbed my hand, halting me where I stood.

"Do not go yet, Mae. There is something I wish to tell you," he said.

_Did he just call me Mae?_

"And what might that be?" I asked.

"Will you listen and be quiet for once?" he asked, sounding just a bit put out.

"I am listening," I replied, confused by his words.

"I asked you to be silent. I am still waiting," he said. Again, that feigned irritation.

"I told you I would be quiet and I—"

"—I can see that asking you and then telling you is doing no good," he said, interrupting me. "I am just going to have to _make_ you be silent."

He pulled me to him fluidly and kissed me. I had no time to be shocked. I was marveling at the fact that not only had his hands made my skin tingle before, when he had worked his Elven magic on me, apparently Elven magic extended to his lips also.

But the realization hit me suddenly that he had to be playing with me—he knew I was carrying Aragorn's child, and I must, therefore, be an easy mark.

I shoved against his chest with all my might. The thought that he was just using me enraged me. The shock on his face showed just how great he thought his irresistibility. Venom must have shown on my face. He frowned as if confused.

"I'm not some harlot, in spite of what others may think," I said angrily.

"I never thought that," Elladan said, and his expression was such that I might have believed him. But it was so ludicrous to behold—that he would wish to kiss me because he felt some sort of attraction between us. He was an Elf, and by definition beautiful beyond words, while I was a plain Human woman. _What could he possibly see in me?_

My skepticism must have shown on my face. He turned defensive, which was to be expected.

"Is it so without the realm of possibility that I might want to kiss you?" he asked. "That perhaps being around you these past weeks, I have grown to know somewhat about you, like what I know, and now want to know more?"

I answered quietly. "Is it _so_ without the realm of possibility, that you know Aragorn obviously had an easy time with me, and you thought to perhaps have one, too?"

If an Elf ever rolled his eyes, I think Elladan might have done so now. But what he said almost shocked me.

"I suppose it would also be without your realm of possibility that I might wish I'd seen you first—before Aragorn ever saw you? You would not be in this predicament now."

I didn't know whether to kiss him again, or slap his face. I knew not how to take that remark. Now I was confused.

Elladan closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to clear it from all the disorder.

"Forget about all the realms of reason, and come back and sit with me," Elladan said. He held out his hand for me to take, so I did. We sat again beside the river.

"Now," he said, taking charge of our wayward conversation, "why do you not tell me about your life? I wish to know—and I have no ulterior motive."

I looked at him, searching for what in his face, I didn't know. I could tell by his tone that he meant his comment; it wasn't some sort of jest he planned to use against me at some other time. He seemed genuinely interested.

I did not want to tell him of my life. There was too much heartache, and the chance that I would start the crying again was just too high. I was unsure of what to tell him, or how much I should say. He had been my rescuer the other night when I'd had the nightmare. Perhaps that was the reason for his curiosity now.

"I know not what to tell you," I said vaguely.

"Well," he said, obviously unsure as to how much to push me, "have you been married before? Is this your first child?"

_He certainly got right to the meat of the issue, did he not?_

"Perhaps Aragorn or Arwen has told you about my life, prior to living in Minas Tirith?" I asked.

"Somewhat," he said, "but I would like to hear your story from you."

Now came my dilemma. Did I tell him or didn't I? He sat there waiting expectantly, so I decided I might as well get it over with.

"I was married at fifteen to a man named Dustin, and we had a son named Tristin the following year. When Tristin was twelve—three years ago—they were both killed in a fire in one of the stables in Edoras." Elladan had been sitting close to me, but not touching me. However, at the mention of the deaths of my loved ones, he took my hand gently in his and held it on his knee.

I continued, still strong and not weeping. "My little family was the world to me, Elladan. I loved my Dustin fiercely. It would scare you how much I loved him. It certainly scares me. I don't think I will ever love another again."

"And why is that?" he asked me. "Why should one fear to love and be loved so much?"

"Because it can all be taken from you in an instant! And the pain is unendurable when it is."

"So you are saying you would rather have never loved your husband, nor had your son, if you would have known they would be taken from you?"

_That wasn't what I was saying! __Was it_?

_I guess in a way, it was._

"Of course I would never give up knowing and loving Dustin. And Tristin was a part of me—"

"'Tis none of my business, Maeren," he said as if in apology. "How you feel is a personal matter."

We sat there in tense silence. I did not like it, so I sought to lighten the mood.

"You said before that you wished to tell me something," I said quietly. "Was that simply a ruse, or was there really something you wanted to tell me?"

He smiled his killer smile. "No, it was not a ruse. I wished to bid you goodbye. Elrohir and I are leaving on the morrow, and even though I had planned the kiss as a part of that goodbye, I had planned on using words too."

His smile faded and his face became solemn. "I am sorry about your family, Maeren." His other hand joined the first on his knee, and together their thumbs began brushing the back of my hand. "You are of much too tender an age to have suffered such misfortune."

"Tender an age?" I asked incredulously, almost laughing. "Have you any idea how old I am, Elladan?"

He looked shocked by my outburst, so I suppose my attempt to lighten the mood must have worked. I really did not want to weep again. The repeat episode of it recently—after the nightmare—had reminded me just how much I hated it, and were we to continue with the present conversation in the same tone, I would have been in tears very soon.

"Yes, tender in age!" he answered, irritated. "You must be what? Perhaps twenty-five?" Elladan asked a bit annoyed at my sudden shift in mood.

"I am ancient, by Rohirric standards," I informed him. "Thirty, Elladan. It is a wonder I conceived at all. Just my luck, one might say." _So I was fibbing about Rohirric standards by a decade or three. What difference did it make? He knew no differently._

Now it was his turn to be frustrated with me for a change. Males so hate to be wrong—and told of it, no less! But victories—whether real or feigned—are sweet, for seldom do they come to me. I savor every single one of them.

"I refuse to engage in an argument with you about age, my lady," he said condescendingly. "You would most assuredly lose."

"Aren't we high and mighty of a sudden?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"I could show you high and mighty if you wish," he said, with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Arwen said I had the most wicked of tickling fingers that have ever graced her ribs!"

"Do not even think of such a thing, Elladan," I said, inching my bottom up the riverbank. "I will make you pay if you lay even one finger upon one of my ribs."

I had made it a few feet up the bank when he reached up and grabbed one of my legs around the knee and pulled me back down to him, pinning me beneath his chest. He had the most sinful of grins on his lips. I closed my eyes and grimaced, bracing myself for the onslaught of tickling, but it never came. I slowly opened my eyes, only to see his smiling face still beaming down at me.

"Well?" I asked. "What are you waiting for?"

"What?" he asked incredulously. "You _want _me to tickle you?"

"No I do not want you to tickle me!" I exclaimed. "But I would like to know if you intend to keep me flattened here the entire night."

He relaxed his hold on me somewhat, although I would still not be able to rise without his leave to do so. His face softened and I dreaded what he would say next.

"No, I do not intend to keep you flattened here the entire night," he repeated. "I intend to kiss you again—farewell—that is all."

"Elladan," I said skeptically, "I do not think it a good idea to get involved—"

"Who said anything about involvement?" he interrupted me. "You have no need to fear me. I merely asked for a kiss. I did not ask to bed you, Maeren." The smile on his face bespoke of his teasing. There was no meanness or acrimony in his tone. But there was challenge there, and I rarely backed down from a challenge. And I didn't now, either.

I relaxed in his arms this time, and since I expected the electricity I was not startled by it. I was concentrating on giving as good as I got, meeting his challenge and, hopefully, not letting him know exactly how much this was scaring me.

The contact of the skin of his lips against mine took my breath away, and at the same time, warned me of the tremendous mistake I had made.

It was not just the Elven tingle any more; it was my need that had been awakened that left me breathless. During my marriage, I had always been well loved. Dustin was a man of hearty appetites, and I was a woman no less so. When I had been heavy with Tristin—and very self-conscious about my size—I had balked at his suggestions to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. Dustin would have none of it, claiming he could not resist me, portly or no. I smiled as I thought of my husband's description of my girth before Tristin was born, and Elladan drew back, wondering what I found so humorous. I pulled him back to me, refusing to answer, and let our lips resume making love to each other.

He tasted sweet, unlike any of the men I had ever kissed before—which were two, by my count. I had to stay my hands from his tunic. They wanted to unfasten it and pull it from his shoulders. He seemed unmoved, which cooled me a bit, though not much. I suppose in his eyes, women were lacking when compared to Elven females; we had not that 'zing' in our touch, that was for sure. I certainly wish I found him lacking, because I was not going to be able to take much more of this sweet torment without ripping some piece of his clothing, to my everlasting shame.

It was then that he became more insistent, shifting up on one elbow, lifting off of my body enough so that he could place his hand beneath my jaw. His hair—soft, satin, sheets of it—fell down around our faces as our lips continued to caress each other, not yet sated. His hand was getting the very same idea mine had been contemplating earlier, and I knew it was time to put an end to these tantalizing games. Eru, how hard it was to tear myself away from this delicious Elf, but it had to be done.

Only I could not do it! Not just yet. I allowed him to unfasten the buttons on my tunic, which were only two, since the others would no longer meet the eyes they were supposed to fit into on the other side. _Besides, I still had my shirt beneath it; what harm could it do?_

He pushed his slender hand between the cloth of my shirt and my tunic, directly beneath my breast. How I ached for him to touch me where I craved it, but I knew it would be better if he did not. I contemplated shifting, accidentally on purpose moving my body so that my breast rested beneath his palm, but he finally made my scheming unnecessary, when he touched me of his own accord. I was coming apart at the seams, unraveling like a fraying rope stretched taut. I was approaching the point of no turning back—and I _so_ did not want to turn back.

I was startled when he spoke.

"You are killing me," he whispered hoarsely. "You know not how close to death I am."

_Funny—I thought he was torturing me._

"We should stop this now, or there will be no stopping," he said breathlessly, continuing to rain small, sweet kisses around my mouth, waiting for my answer.

I knew he was leaving it up to me. He was more than willing to continue; his arousal was apparent, with his body draped over mine. I wanted more than anything to forget all that was sensible, and make love to this Elf in my arms; but I knew it was wrong. Not only that, but I would have to be completely out of my mind to make this same sort of mistake twice, in less that six months!_ How I ached to be crazy, if only for this one night._

I closed my eyes, trying to gain control over my voice. Clearing my throat I said, "You are right, we should stop. I want not to, but it is the right thing to do. Oh, but you are tempting, my fine Elf!"

At first he smiled at my ridiculous comment, then he fell onto his back and chuckled quietly.

"I think you might be insane, Maeren!" he said.

"Well then that makes two of us, does it not?" I asked quietly.

He said nothing he simply rolled back over to me and held me once more. He didn't kiss me or touch me suggestively, he only held me. It felt very nice. We stayed this way, holding each other on the riverbank for only a few minutes more, just enjoying the closeness we felt to one another. It would be soon enough when we—or at least I—would be alone once again.

"We should be getting back to the others, you know," I said dreamily.

"There is no hurry," he said. "The night is still young." I began to wonder if he had decided to challenge my latest decision. The night was indeed growing old.

"What will the others think?" I asked.

"Who cares what they think?" he asked, as he began to nibble down my neck.

And then he was kissing me again.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was not the thing I should be doing. Simple logic pointed out the negative aspects that presented themselves as a result of this situation. I was already with child, by someone who was not the one kissing me now. The one kissing me now had a very fearsome Elf lord for a father, and I definitely did not want to get on his bad side again. Simple logic told me to extricate myself from this very handsome, very sensual Elf and run for my life. However, right now simple logic was butting heads with very strong Rohirric physical desire. One would think that I would have learned my lesson, for a hard lesson it had proved to be, but I found myself melting again in Elladan's embrace.

_No, this could not be. It would not be. I was going to be living in Imladris until my child's birth, and this sort of thing would not be allowed to occur. _

Reluctantly, I tried to pull away. The current flowing from his lips to mine was like a magnet, and it was very difficult, in more ways than one, to break its sweet hold on my mouth. In the first place, it was like telling myself I'd had plenty of sustenance—even though I was starving—and I must not partake of what was offered freely to me now. In the second place, Elladan's hold on my body was such that I could feel his need matched my own, which did nothing to douse the embers he was fanning in me. However, I had a sudden vision of Elrond flash past my mind's eye, and that put a definite damper on those embers that I had felt just seconds before. Reluctantly I bid goodbye to Elladan's tongue one last time, kissed his lips quickly two or three more times, until we lay nose-to-nose, lips untouching.

"We must not do this," I whispered. Elladan continued kissing my neck, pausing where the pulse beats, to sink his teeth lightly into my skin.

As much as I liked Elladan, I had never in my life given any thought to having only a physical relationship with a man—excuse me, man or Elf—with no real love involved. First it had been Aragorn. Now this Elf. How had I become so corrupted? When did it begin and what started it? I would have to ponder these questions sometime, but not now. Now, I had to get myself out of this predicament, gracefully if I could.

"Elladan—"

"Tell me again, why you think we should stop?" he asked, his voice sultry with desire.

"Legolas already thinks me a whore, so I suppose I _should _care what the others think," I replied.

_That was certainly graceful, was it not?_

It got his attention, anyway. He stopped his nibbling and looked at me strangely.

"He told you that?" he asked in an astonished voice.

"Let's just say," I said innocently, "the foliage has ears, at times."

He looked perplexed. When it was apparent that he was not going to get the meaning of what I was saying, I told him what I meant.

"I was eavesdropping, for crying out loud!" I whispered harshly.

He propped himself up on one elbow and said, "I sense a story I may have to torture out of you."

Startling him, I quickly sat up, pushed him back down, and said, "You'll have to catch me first!"

I ran back to the campsite, and burst in on the others, who were sitting around the fire. They were trying to best each other in stories of who killed the most Orcs, and in the most gruesome of ways, in the battle before the Black Gates—as if they weren't all too terrified to be counting at a time like that! _What men won't dream up to compete over!_

I went around the fire and plopped myself down beside Gimli, even though I had to 'butt' my way in beside Legolas. I cared not. I needed the comfort of my best friend right now. I was confused and physically frustrated, and I needed the presence of a friend to anchor me to the real world.

All the banter they had been engaging in had ceased the minute I sat down. I wanted to scream. Were they all wondering where I had been and what Elladan and I had been up to, or were they afraid the gore of their stories would offend my womanly sensibilities? In which way should I address the group? I knew they were waiting for me to say something. _Drat!_

I plunged in, uncaring, going for the least embarrassing of the topics.

"Why did you all stop speaking?" I asked innocently. "I have not only heard worse stories than these, I have dealt with the very wounds of which you are speaking. Do not mince words on my account."

Leave it to Elrohir to come to my rescue.

"Maeren," he said with a smirk, "were you partaking in a bit of exercise that involved rolling about on the ground? You are covered in leaves and dirt and can barely catch your breath!"

"If you must know," I returned without batting an eye, "that mischievous Elf of a brother of yours is scandalous. We were talking on the riverbank, when of a sudden, he attacked me, threw me on the ground and had his way with me."

There were wide eyes and slack jaws on all three of my companions seated at the fire, not to mention the Elf just joining us. So I took my cue, thanking Eru my ruse had worked, and burst out laughing at my own 'supposed' joke. I could only hope Elrohir had not a keen memory and pick up the question he had posed before I had given my ridiculous answer. The tension broke with an almost audible snap, and the others began laughing as well. I caught Elladan's eye over the others' heads, his look telling me I had best be on the lookout for some sort of retribution.

If these people only knew how close to the truth I had come in my description of what I had been doing. Only Elladan had definitely not attacked me. No indeed.

_If that was an attack, well, I would never survive it if he made love to me._

**A/N: I hang my head in shame. I wish to thank Isilwen from the bottom of my heart for pointing out to me that I had spelled Fangorn incorrectly in this story. I imagine I have misspelled it in previous chapters as well. I will go and check, you can be assured. I have corrected the misspellings in this chapter (I believe I caught them all). Again, you have no idea how appalled I am that I misspelled the wonderful home of Treebeard!**


	25. Vipers and Venom

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The twins were gone before I rose the next morning. I was glad, in a way. The farther away from Elladan I could stay, the better it would be—although not nearly as entertaining. Somewhere in my mind, I remembered dreaming vaguely of Elven lips upon my brow and a soft whisper of farewell. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to shake the silly thoughts from my mind. Of course it had been just a dream. _Hadn't it?_

I went through what was now my morning routine of greeting Mother Nature, splashing in whatever water source we happened to be near—in this case the Bruinen—and seeing to my morning tea. Gimli was up before me, gnawing at some leftovers from the birds we had cooked the night before. Legolas was elsewhere, as usual.

"Ai!" Legolas shouted from the brush. "Sweet Eru!"

Gimli and I looked at each other. "Legolas, what in the name of Aule are you shrieking about?" Gimli yelled.

Legolas emerged from the brush, twisting his torso every few steps, to look down toward the back of one of his legs.

"I did not _shriek_," he said with a frown. "It was nothing; it just startled me."

"What startled you?" Gimli asked. "And why are you cavorting around? Can you not walk straight any more?"

Legolas straightened up and glared at Gimli. "I do not _cavort_," he retorted. "I stepped on an adder. Only Eru knows how I did not sense him being there."

"An adder?" I asked, becoming concerned. "Are you sure?"

"I have the fang marks in my leg, I am sure, if you care to look," he said, unkindly.

"Well," I said, mocking him, "I _would_ care to look, so sit down right where you are and I will."

"Since when have you been granted leave to give orders to me?" he asked belligerently.

"Since I am the healer of the group, and you are the one who needs the healing," I answered, with equal belligerence. I pointed to the ground at his feet, reiterating silently my command that he sit.

"I need not your healing," he said with quiet conviction. He continued to stand, defiance screaming from his expression.

Gimli decided to intervene in our latest disagreement. "Legolas, an adder bite can be very serious. Now quit acting as a child and allow Maeren to tend to it."

"I need not her healing," he repeated, a bit louder; this time aimed at Gimli with an unyielding frown.

Trying to make his friend see reason, Gimli calmed his tone and said, "Legolas, the venom will likely make you very sick." I thought he had finished in his trying to convince the Elf, but he added, "It could kill you, you brainless Elf!" What had started out as a kind, soothing statement, had ended as a stern, loud one.

"I need not her healing!" Legolas shouted stubbornly. "The bite of an adder will not make an Elf sick."

I could not stand his obstinacy any longer. "Since you are an Elf, perhaps the venom will skip the illness entirely and just kill you outright!" I yelled. He glared at me. "Now sit you down and expose your leg to me, or I shall expose it for you! Do you understand?" I hoped he would not call my bluff. I had no idea how I would begin to expose his leg without his total cooperation.

Thank Eru he sat. However, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me defiantly—just as he must have looked as an Elfling. I could not help myself; I started laughing and I could not stop. The picture of a full grown Elf—one that was at least a thousand years old, mind you—sitting there pouting, was hysterical.

Gimli soon joined me. Who can resist the contagion of another's laughter? Legolas tried very hard to keep his countenance stony, but he was losing the battle. The tiny contortions his face was going through, trying to keep itself straight, only increased my laughter. He finally stood and turned to leave. I immediately stopped laughing and called him back.

"Legolas, please do not go," I said, trying to stop the catch in my voice. "I am very afraid for you. Please, tell me truly, are you just being stubborn or does the bite of an adder really have no effect on an Elf?"

He stopped and turned back toward me. His face had taken on an uneasy expression. His voice was no longer belligerent. "I am just being stubborn, and I believe I am going to have to allow you to look at this bite. I am beginning to feel decidedly unwell." He blinked his eyes, widening them as if it would help him to see better. When he started to sway, Gimli and I both ran to keep him from landing in the dirt.

Gimli and I slowly lowered the Elf to the ground. "Where did the adder bite you, Legolas?" I asked quietly and much more gently than I had been speaking to him just a few moments before.

He took a deep breath and said, "In the back my right leg, a few inches below my knee."

I knelt beside Legolas, grabbing a bedroll that had been rolled again for travel, but not yet stowed on a horse. I placed this under his head. The ground was hard and grassless here. Since he was lying on his back, I nudged at his side, trying to get him to roll over, so I could have better access to the back of his leg. Gimli joined me, as soon as he realized what my intent was, and it was at his insistence that Legolas allowed himself to be moved. _Why was he so boneheaded?_

Gimli was so concerned. I already knew they were very good friends, but I hadn't realized the depth of their friendship. Even though they seemed to keep the air hot between them with exchanged insults half the time, the worry now shown by Gimli was obvious.

"Gimli, can you help me take off his boot?" I asked.

We pulled and tugged at his boot, which seemed almost adhered to his foot. It dawned on me that his leg was already starting to swell. My alarm was increasing. A glance at the Elf's face compounded my fear. Legolas was always fairly pale, but he was ashen now and sweat was beading on his forehead.

"Legolas," Gimli asked with frustration, "is there some trick to the removal of your blasted boot?"

Legolas smiled, but his voice sounded weaker. "No Gimli, they are just tight. Keep pulling, it is slowly coming off."

With one final hard pull, the boot slid free of Legolas' foot, sending Gimli sprawling on his rear. Ordinarily I would have found that amusing, but right now I found nothing amusing. I was very afraid for this Elf in my care. Very afraid.

I was glad to see Legolas laugh though. I was glad to see Legolas conscious at all. I tried to pull his leggings up his leg, but they, too, were impossibly tight.

"I am going to cut your leggings, Legolas," I said quietly.

"Do not cut them," he protested. "Pull them up."

"All the way up past your knee?" I complained. "They are much too close fitting. I'd have better luck pulling them down!"

He gave me a look that promised my death if I was to try that tactic, but he said nothing else.

"I'm going to cut these leggings," I repeated.

He made as if to sit up to stop me, then sank back down, one of his hands going to his brow. I bent over his head, taking his hand away.

"Legolas, how are you feeling? Is it hard to stay awake? Are you dizzy—nauseous—achy?" I had so many questions, and I wanted them all answered immediately.

"If you will be silent," he said, smiling, "I will tell you." He stopped for a moment, swallowing hard, and said, "I feel terrible. The answer to all of your questions is 'yes'." He swallowed again.

"Are you having difficulty swallowing?" I asked.

"No," he answered, his teeth clenched together. My heart felt as if it had fallen to my feet. _Sweet Eru, do not let his throat be swelling as well._

After a few moments he finished answering my question. "Swallowing is not the problem. My stomach wishes to be empty—and very soon." He rose to one elbow, and I automatically grabbed his hair and held it back, supporting his shoulders as he retched. Gimli took over, giving Legolas his water skin afterward, helping him wash out his mouth.

Even though it seemed an eternity, only perhaps fifteen minutes had passed since he'd first announced to Eru that he'd been bitten. Wasting no more time, I grabbed the dagger I kept in my belt and slit his leggings up well past his knee. I briefly contemplated cutting them off completely, but the Elf was still conscious, and even sick like he was, he was still intimidating. I quickly decided against it. If his leg continued to swell, it may yet have to be done. It sounded like a task Gimli may be better suited for.

I had tended to snake bites before—many times, in fact. Adder bites weren't always serious. You usually had to upset the snake greatly to make them strike at you in the first place, and even then, they sometimes dealt but a glancing blow. However, if you did get the full attention of their fangs, the bite could be serious indeed. If they didn't kill you, they could make you wish that they had.

I pulled open the cloth where I had slit the Elf's leggings, exposing the fang marks. "Hold on, Legolas," I said, "this is going to hurt."

I made my cuts, along both fang marks, and the Elf didn't even flinch. I glanced up to see if he was still conscious and was relieved to see that he was. I hated to draw out the venom with my mouth, but I had no other choice. I bent as low as I could and placed my mouth around the injury. After a few minutes I stopped. I was no longer successful in drawing anything more from the cuts, and Legolas was starting to protest. I was thankful he was still alert enough to object to having my mouth on him. He was protesting at having me anywhere near him at all. _Some things never change._

I lifted my tunic enough to pull the tail of my shirt out of my leggings and then poked a hole in it about three inches from its hem. After enlarging the hole, I then proceeded to rip the entire thing around bottom. I cut the resulting circle of cloth, so that I had a long strip. I then realized that this would not be enough to correctly bandage the Elf's leg, so I repeated the procedure. My shirt would certainly be short, if I continued to use it this way. I slashed through the last strip in the same manner as I had the first. Folding one of them several times to make a pad, I placed it against the wounds and then bound it with the other longer strip. I wanted to poultice this as soon as I may, but we needed to get Legolas out of the sun and onto a bedroll, to make him as comfortable as possible.

As soon as I was finished bandaging Legolas' injury, Gimli and I helped him to stand. He protested when I tried to get him to lean on me, but I assured him that I would not break, and he finally acquiesced. He leaned on both of us and we helped him to hobble over to sit in the shade.

Gimli was already preparing a bed for the Elf, taking his bedroll as well as Legolas' and stacking them one atop the other. I did not even try to get either of them to take mine as well. I knew it would be a waste of my breath. While Gimli hurriedly made the erstwhile bed, Legolas again had a bout of retching, this time with only me for assistance. Even though he was sorely sick, I could tell he chafed at my help. We had called a truce—a neutrality as it were—but we were still not comfortable within close proximity of one another.

Gimli eased his friend down onto the pallet, taking such care it made me want to weep. I had always known that Gimli was the sweetest person I had ever known, even though to look at him one would never guess such a thing. It took really getting to know him to find this out. Legolas being injured showed me that Gimli's friends were as precious as gold to him, and he would stop at nothing to see to their care. I only hoped Legolas' devotion to Gimli was as profound.

As soon as we had Legolas settled, I grabbed my bag of healing supplies and my water skin, seated myself at the end of the bedroll Legolas was lying on and started sorting through the packets of herbs I had brought along. I soon had the appropriate ones selected and set about making a poultice. Legolas was not sleeping, but he had his eyes closed. He and Gimli were quietly talking while I tended to mixing the herbal paste.

I lifted his leg and placed his foot in my lap, to gain better access to the injury. As I expected, he tried to pull his foot away from me, but I held fast to it. He finally gave up. He was weakening and didn't have the energy to continue. I said nothing and neither did he. I removed the bandage I had just placed on Legolas' injury, taking care not to hurt him too much. He may not be my favorite person, but I hated to inflict pain on others unnecessarily, even if they didn't endear themselves to me at all. The herbal paste was thick enough so that gravity would not be seeing it splat onto my knees as soon as I had applied it. Using gentle fingers, I smoothed the gooey concoction on and around the fang marks and cuts I had made. It was a shame really. Had that ridiculous snake only struck but a few inches lower, its fangs would have had but a mouthful of boot—not a jaw full of fair Elven skin.

I soon was finished applying the herbal paste to the fang marks and released his leg, placing his foot flat on the pallet. Placed that way, his knee was steepled enough to give clearance for bandaging. As soon as I was finished bandaging the bite, I rose, and looked around for something to pillow his leg upon. It needn't be too large, just something soft—a bit more cushion to help with the soreness. I finally settled on using my bedroll and took it over to my patient. I went down on my knees, placed it beneath his leg and sat back on my heels. I swiped my wrist over my forehead, pushing away a wisp of hair that had fallen forward as I bent to work.

I had replaced the bandage loosely. Legolas' leg had already almost doubled in size at the site of the injury. He would be lucky if it wouldn't need to be drained. I did not look forward to trying to convince the Elf that I should again come near him with a knife, but if push came to shove, my will would be done—even if I had to enlist Gimli to sit on him to see it accomplished.

I must have looked worried indeed; after Legolas opened his eyes again, he stared at me for what seemed an eternity.

I finally could stand his perusal no longer. "What?" I asked. "Do I have something on my face, or do you make it a practice to stare at Humans to make them squirm?"

He actually smiled. "Yes and No," he answered.

Gimli looked irritated. "Ask an Elf a question and he will usually tell you that same thing, Maeren. They can be quite exasperating at times."

"Gimli," Legolas said, his voice sounding slightly more weakened, "if you will look at the healer's face, you will see I gave the first part of her question a direct answer. And the second portion of her question, I also answered. What would you have me say?"

Gimli looked at me and smiled with chagrin. "I can attest that you do have something on your face—and in your hair as well."

I ran my fingers over my hair, and they came away holding two leaves. Taking up my water skin, I poured a bit of water on a hanky I had tucked in my bosom and ran it over my face. I looked at it upon completion of the washing and there was indeed dirt on it.

"Thank you, Legolas," I said, "for helping me maintain a neat appearance. You may not believe I am speaking sincerely, but I am."

He laughed, though not with much strength. He closed his eyes again, looking as if to rest. I was startled when he again spoke. I had glanced away and had not noticed he was looking at me once more.

"I was staring at you in part, because I sense your worry," he said. "I wish to assure you that, while this will make me sick, I will not pass from life because of it. Even though I am still suffering the effects of the venom, my body has already begun healing itself. It is the way of Elves."

Another tidbit of information concerning Elves had just been imparted to me by the most unlikely of sources. Sometimes you just could not figure what miracles life may throw your way. Legolas—actually explaining something about Elves to me. _Would the sky rain rabbits next? _

"That is a relief to me, Legolas," I said. "I was sore worried for you, because the effects of the venom were quick and severe. The men I have tended with this same bite, who have had the swift reaction that you did, have never survived. I thought Gimli would not let me live were I to let you die."

Legolas chuckled at that. "Now that I have been at your mercy when you are in action as a healer, as well as when you are wielding a dagger, I believe you would be able to defend yourself well. He would not stand a chance against you."

_Now that comment took me aback! He must be sicker than he was letting on. Was he actually jesting with me?_

Gimli cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps a contest is in order, lass?" Gimli asked with mock seriousness.

"Oh no!" I answered quickly. "I would soon be missing my head were I to stand against you in a duel, my fine Dwarf."

I turned to my patient and placed my hand to his forehead. His temperature was rising, though it was not high as of yet. He needed to rest, but it would be helpful if I could learn just a bit more about this Elven healing he had been speaking about earlier.

"Legolas," I began, "could you elaborate on the way your body heals itself? Is it twice as fast as a Human would heal? Or perhaps even quicker?"

"I would say it is quicker than twice as fast," he replied. "Were I to suffer a shoulder wound from an arrow at dawn and was tended to quickly—no Orcish poison involved—I would be healed for travel by the following dawn and healed completely for weapons within the following week. Oh, and it would be assumed that my health is prime."

I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping. Then a sudden doubt crept through my mind. I had been the butt of one too many Elven jokes of late, and I could not just swallow a story of this strangeness without question. I cast a look at Gimli, seeing if perhaps he could confirm what the Elf had just said. Gimli noticed my look of suspicion and nodded slightly, a smile slowly stealing across his lips, affirming the truth of his Elven friend's words, despite their apparent outlandishness.

"So," I considered out loud, "in your honest opinion, when would you expect your recovery? I presume that in your thousands of years on Middle Earth, you have at least witnessed some Elf suffering an adder bite before, correct?"

"Yes," he replied, "I have. The Elf was bitten on the hand. He received no treatment at the time of the bite. He emptied his stomach as I did, only several times more, and he became very feverish. His hand became swollen and black, and when he finally received treatment, his hand had to be drained. He did make a full recovery. He suffered no ill effects afterward, only a small scar where the healer drained the fluid from his hand. As far as how long it will take me to recover—I will be hale by this afternoon, without doubt."

Gimli hooted with laughter, then tried to stifle it. Legolas shot him a look, but smiled in surrender.

"All right," he admitted, "by tomorrow morning, I will be fit to ride. No longer than that. If it is sooner, I will say so." At my sideways, doubting stare, he added, "I promise!" I was taken aback by the sound of the phrase and the look that he gave me. It was as if my Dustin had risen from his grave and had uttered the words. I shook myself mentally and came back to the present.

"All right," I said. "Only a few questions more, then I will leave you to rest. First of all, how are you feeling right now? Be specific, or I will begin firing questions at you, and you will become vexed with me again."

"My head hurts," he began, "my stomach hurts; my leg hurts; I am tired. That is all I believe. Does that satisfy your curiosity?" He closed his eyes, appearing tired and weaker.

"For now it will do," I replied. "Rest. I will be checking on you often, so be not startled if you feel me touch your forehead for fever. I wish not to be throttled should you react as a warrior and mistake me for an Orc."

"Have no fear," he replied with dignity. "My senses are intact; I would never make such a mistake, _even_ between such similar creatures as you and an Orc." He glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back at him and placed my hand over his eyes.

"Sleep," I commanded quietly.

"Take your hand away, and I will," he replied.

It took me a moment to realize what he meant. Then it occurred to me: Elves like to sleep with their eyes open. They call it 'waking dreams' I believe Elrohir told me once. I complied with his wishes and rose. I gathered the things I had used in caring for Legolas and stowed them once again in my bag.

I gathered all the water skins and went down to the riverside to refill them. Gimli went with me and it was immediately obvious what his motivations were.

"Maeren," he said with concern, "is the Elf doing as well as expected?"

I stopped and turned to the Dwarf. I placed my hand against his bearded cheek and smiled.

"He is, Gimli," I replied sincerely. "However, with this mysterious 'Elven healing' thrown into the mix, I really know not what to expect." We continued on to the riverside, and once there, we each took up a water skin and began to fill it.

"If he was a man," I continued, "I would expect his leg to swell quite a bit more and, in all likelihood, need to be drained. I would also expect high fever, just as he said his Elf friend endured. However, that Elf received no initial treatment, and since we are speaking of an Elf and not a man, I have no way of knowing if he will continue to swell or if his fever has reached its peak or not. I am sorry, Gimli. I truly have no answers for you. We will both simply have to wait this out with him and see how it takes its course. I would definitely take his word that his life is in no danger, though. I believe if he were destined for the Halls of Mandos, he would be there by now. The poison was swift to act, and it being that potent, it would have killed him were he a man. His Elven healing has saved him, Gimli. Of that I am sure. He will be fine. Now whether if by this afternoon—"

"Whether by this afternoon he thinks so or not, he will not be moving from that bedroll, even have I to sit on him," Gimli declared. "I have not seen the Elf that sickly ever before, and for him to accept help as readily as he did, there is no doubt in my mind that he was in dire need."

We finished up our chore and made our way back up the bank and back to the campsite. Legolas was where we had left him, one arm thrown over his face, but otherwise unmoved. I plopped myself down beside his head, after retrieving my book of poetry and began reading to pass the time. After a bit, Legolas stirred and moaned, taking a deep breath and lifting his arm from his eyes.

He looked over at me, his eyes obviously feverish. I had brought one of the water skins with me from the river, and I held it up in silent offer to him. He propped himself up on one elbow, and took it from me, drinking deeply of the cool river water Gimli and I had procured an hour or so earlier. He handed it back to me with his thanks and laid back down, returning his arm to shield his eyes.

"I am going to touch your face to check your fever, Legolas," I said, wanting not to startle him. I took the wrist of the arm covering his face, and lifted it away from his eyes and laid my other hand against his forehead. It was much warmer than it had been before. I replaced his arm to where I had found it across his eyes, much to his amusement, for he smiled. In no time I had mixed the herbs with water that would reduce his temperature, along with a bit of Valerian, to help ease the pain and assist him in sleeping.

"I have a special drink for you," I said in a 'sing-song' type of voice, much as a mother would use with a child she wished to dose with a foul tasting potion.

"What is it for?" he sang back to me.

I laughed. Without the singing this time, I replied, "It is for your fever."

"I prefer to let it burn itself out," he said. "That is also the way of the Elves."

Somehow, I doubted that. "You mean it is the way of bad Elflings who wish to not take what the healer wishes them to, is it not?"

He lifted the arm that covered his eyes, giving me a dour look. He again propped himself onto one elbow and accepted the cup I offered, drank it down, grimaced like he would retch again and handed the cup back to me. He gave me a most resentful look, and then resumed his position on his bedroll, the same as before.

"Are you comfortable, Legolas?" I asked. "Do you need a blanket or something else to pad your leg from the ground?"

He looked as if it pained him to admit it, but he finally answered me.

"If you would not mind, a blanket would help," he replied. "I am chilled."

I hoped the herb I had just given the Elf would work soon. Chills only indicated that his fever was rising even more. I rose and retrieved a blanket that had been dumped in the dirt in Gimli's haste at laying out the bedrolls for Legolas right after I had treated him initially. I took it a short distance away from my patient and shook it out well, then returned to him, spreading it over him evenly and tucking him in. He looked ashamed and embarrassed to be seen as so weak. I felt sorry for him. And the worst part was—I could not find it within me to gloat! I was a healer first and a scorned woman second. After all of his insults and downright mean remarks, I could not bring myself to have other than compassion for him. He was in pain and in need, and I could not find it in my heart right now to find any satisfaction in his plight. Perhaps when he was on the mend, and was beginning to chafe and grow irritable, then I could avenge myself again. But for now—a truce had definitely been called.

Pity. I may never have such an opportunity again.

_Life could be so unfair at times, could it not?_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

The day passed in much the same way throughout the morning and afternoon, and still Legolas' fever was no worse, but it was no better either. The pain in his leg was worse, although he would not admit such a thing. He did not have to admit it, though; his actions as he slept admitted it for him. He didn't thrash about, but a moan would escape him now and again. Something I had noticed about him as we had traveled was that Legolas never made unnecessary noise of any kind as a rule. His moaning in his sleep left no doubt in my mind that he was in pain.

I grew just a bit concerned, for about mid afternoon Legolas had withdrawn his arm from his face and had closed his eyes, having obviously fallen asleep. I rose quietly and motioned for Gimli to follow me a short way distant into the wood so as not to disturb our patient. I then quizzed him as to how much he knew about Elves when they felt poorly.

"Does it concern you that he now sleeps with his eyes shut?" I asked.

"To tell you truthfully, lass," he replied, "I have never been present when the Elf—or any Elf, for that matter—has been injured, and then tended to, anywhere near me, so I know not much about it. However, I have heard them speak of it before, and they say that when an Elf closes his eyes to sleep, it usually means he is simply in a deeper, healing sleep. They say it is not a cause for alarm."

"Well," I said with a sigh, "that is a relief. Whoever would have thought that the care of an Elf would have such complications?"

"Who indeed?" replied Gimli with a smile, obviously amused with my unease. "He seems to be helpless at the moment, lass; I doubt he could harm you."

I cuffed him in the arm. "Gimli, quit teasing me," I said resentfully—then smiled. "I cannot help it! He is mean and he scares me sometimes. And at others, I care not and will speak to him as I will. I cannot explain it, my friend. He and I are as oil and water. We simply do not mix."

"Fret not about it, my dear," he soothed. "Elves are curious beings. They have that effect on us all. You are no different, rest assured."

"Gimli!" We both began to run at the sound of Legolas' call.

"Yes Legolas?" Gimli said as soon as he was at the Elf's side. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Legolas replied, "I simply wondered where you were."

Gimli heaved a sigh of relief. "Do not be scaring me that way, you stupid Elf!" he said forcefully, with an anger he truly did not feel.

"I cannot help it if you take fright easily," Legolas said with a wan smile.

"Never you mind," I interrupted them both. I knelt at the Elf's side and placed my hand on his brow. His temperature was no higher and no lower. Still the same.

"Would you like some water or tea?" I asked.

"Just some water, please," he replied.

Gimli helped him with that, while I readied my supplies to undress his wound and check on the swelling. Legolas noticed what I was about immediately.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I am just going to check the bite marks and the swelling," I replied.

I sat at the end of his bedroll as I had before and began untying and then unwrapping the bandage. Even though I had left it loosely bandaged, it was hard to untie at first, because his leg had swelled so much, the tension on the knot made it hard to untie. That certainly did not bode well for not having to drain this injury. After I had the bandage completely away from the wound, I bathed the poultice from it with some water I had placed in one of our cooking pots. I patted it dry with one of my towels that I used for my baths, then peered at the wounds closely. They were doing remarkably well. If it was not for the swelling, I would think that this bite had not even happened today—more likely yesterday_. Elves were such mysterious beings._ However, the swelling was indeed there, but it still was not severe enough to warrant draining, and with this wonderful Elven healing Legolas was displaying, I was willing to wait a while longer and give his body a chance to perhaps take care of this as well. _My what an education I was receiving on this journey!_

Earlier in the day while Legolas had been sleeping, I had cut one of my other shirts into bandages, so after I had mixed another poultice, I spread it on the wounds and replaced the bandage I had taken off with a fresh one, again tying it loosely. If this one tightened as snugly as the first one had, the leg would definitely have to be drained. I certainly hoped it did not come to that. It was something I really did not relish doing. It was a very painful procedure, and I never performed it unless absolutely necessary.

"Maeren," Gimli said, "I have built us a fire and set out a small repast of cheese and dried meat and a few pears, would you care to have it."

"I would be honored, dear sir," I replied. I glanced at Legolas. "Are you at all hungry, Legolas?"

"No," he replied shakily, "just tired. You both go ahead. I will be sleeping."

"Call if you need anything," Gimli announced, "but only if you need something important, mind you."

"Have no fear, Gimli," Legolas said with a small smile, "I promise not to interrupt your meal."

"See that you don't, you silly Elf," Gimli said gruffly, but as he approached the fire, he smiled at me. "I know not what to do with that Elf," he said to me as he sat. "Goes and gets himself bitten by an adder, he does."

"All you must do is be my friend, Gimli," Legolas called weakly from his bedroll. I had a feeling that the Valerian was taking effect. It certainly sounded as if it was.

"That I can do, Legolas," Gimli said with a smile. "Eru knows why I will do it, but I will."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N: First of all, I am not sure as to the exact amount of time between the initial bite of an adder and the onset of symptoms. I took a bit of poetic license in that aspect. Secondly, I want you to understand that I realize the treatment for snakebite mentioned in this chapter is woefully outdated. No one should ever cut the wounds made by the fangs, nor should they attempt to suck out the venom. That is 'old school' in the treatment of snakebite. Do not attempt any such procedures when dealing with the bite of a snake. No tourniquets, no cutting, no sucking. I am not a medical professional by any means. I found these facts by perusing a few good web sites on snakes. I suggest the reader do the same, should they wish to know the correct procedure in treating this type of injury.**


	26. Mothers and Memories

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to mothers everywhere, whether they be on Middle Earth, on Earth, or somewhere between.**

Gimli and I ate our small meal in companionable ease. Now that it was getting dark, we decided that it was time to get Legolas up on his one good foot and get him closer to the fire. We discussed how to arrange the bedrolls so that we would all have places to sleep, and still keep Legolas comfortable. Gimli insisted that all he needed was a blanket. He could sleep on ground made of solid rock and sleep like one as well. I believed him without any doubt.

As soon as we had the pitiful Elf upright, Gimli took him to heed nature's call. I could not resist one small sarcastic remark.

"Try not to step on an adder, Legolas," I said innocently. He had recently used such a phrase on me when I had fallen into a stream.

He said nothing, nor did he hardly spare me a glance. He obviously felt too miserable to even care if I existed, much less teased him. The tall and the short limped away, making quite a sight together as the Dwarf helped the Elf try to walk with his injured leg. While they were gone, I moved the pallet Legolas had been laying on all day closer to the fire, first shaking both bedrolls vigorously, trying to fluff them as much as I could. I placed them down—one atop the other, just as they had been—nearer to the fire, so that the Elf would be warm, in case his fever rose. I prepared him a cup of herbal tea—with some fever reducing agent and a bit more Valerian added as well. It wasn't long before the mismatched pair came hobbling back toward the campsite.

"Legolas, would you care to sit up for awhile?" I asked. "I've made you some tea—with lots of honey!" _There was my 'sing-song' mother voice again_.

He raised his fevered liquid-blue eyes to mine, and I again saw the Elfling he once was. That made twice today I had seen the Elf-child Legolas had been. First I had seen the defiant, angry Elfling who wanted his own way, and now I was observing the hurt, injured Elfling who only wanted to feel like himself again. My healer's heart went out to him.

"I would sit with you both for a few minutes, while I drink whatever foul potion you have brewed for me," he said quietly. I smiled and helped Gimli ease Legolas down to a sitting position upon the pallet I had moved beside the fire. As soon as he was sitting, although it was somewhat a lopsided seat, with his injured leg sprawled out and propped up straight before him, I began fussing over him. I ran my hand over his brow, checking his temperature, and it was still quite warm. I took the blanket I had left folded at one end of the pallet and draped it around his shoulders, making sure it was snug. I then took the cup I had left sitting beside the fire to cool, and I cradled it in a pad we usually used for handling hot items at the fire, and handed it to Legolas. He accepted it with thanks, and, after testing it for coolness, began sipping at the tea slowly.

He looked up over the rim of his drink, his eyes not accusing for once.

"The tea tastes good," he said weakly. "Thank you."

"Foul potions are a specialty of mine," I replied with a smile, "one of the few things I can cook, truth be known. My husband used to get sick just so that he wouldn't starve!"

The Elf came as close to giggling, as I will probably ever see him do again. I became aware that I had spoken of Dustin out loud to someone, without either weeping or relating a tragic story for the first time since he had died. That had to be progress of some sort; I was just not sure of what type.

Gimli had chuckled at my silly comment as well. His eyes met mine and he winked at me.

"Somehow, I have a feeling that you are better in the kitchen than you are letting on, lass," he declared.

"Perhaps a by a bit, Gimli," I admitted, "though not by much. My mother tried her best as I grew up, but I was much more interested in living, breathing things—not things dead, beheaded and skinned and ready for the cooking pot. After she died when I was thirteen, I was forced to cook for my father and brothers. Needless to say, my brothers took wives as quick as they might. My father, poor soul, never complained, though he had every right to. Tis a wonder I did not have to dose him with stomach elixirs night after night. And then there was poor Dustin. Sent me to his own mother, he did. She tried teaching me as well. Had a modicum of success, I suppose, though I am still far from a master cook. I have faced it, Gimli. The kitchen is not my domain, as a rule. Give me the Houses of Healing—that is where my heart lies."

"And it is where it belongs, if my opinion counts in such matters," Gimli averred. "You have heeded your calling, lass, and you do it well. I hope I am not being rude in the asking, but how did it happen? Lady healers are rarely found."

"You are not being rude, Gimli," I replied. "I will probably tell you much more than you want to know, so stop me when you have heard enough. I nagged the poor Warden in Edoras until he could do nothing but agree to train me. It could have been at considerable risk to his reputation, him doing such an unheard of thing, but we agreed to keep it somewhat between the two of us. To the outside world it appeared as if I was simply his first assistant, when in reality, I stayed long hours and learned whatever he would teach me. Oh but he did not make it easy at all! No indeed! He tried to discourage me constantly, giving me the most putrid of tasks, which I will not go into right now, I am sure you will be thankful for. But when I refused to give up, he began to take me seriously, and he seriously began teaching me everything he knew—which was a considerable amount. Lord Keodwyn is an innovative healer. He keeps his eyes and ears open at all times. If visitors from other realms come through, and healers are among their numbers, he seeks them out and they exchange information. He has learned so many things that way; things he never would have dreamed of doing himself, he has told me so often." I laughed, for I had indeed run on and on.

"Lass, I had no idea you have led such an interesting life," Gimli stated sincerely, "though I should have suspected, knowing you as I have come to."

"I only _thought_ you spoke unceasingly before," Legolas said, a small smile gracing his lips. "I knew not you were capable of carrying on so, for such a long while."

"You know not the half of it," I replied with my eyes narrowed. "I could talk your ears off, if I had a mind to; but I do not, and you should be abed. Finish up that tea so we may settle you in for the night."

"Yes, Naneth," he replied innocently. At my frown of confusion, he explained. "Naneth means mother in my language."

I smiled and retorted, "And do not forget it, Elfling! Now do as I say and drink up."

He finished his tea, like a good Elfling should, and let Gimli and I ease him down onto the pallet once more. He looked so miserable, I searched about for anything I might do to ease him somewhat.

"Legolas," I said tentatively, "I realize I am pushing my luck with you, but my intentions are good. I have—whether you believe me capable of such wit or not—been observing throughout our journey, certain things about you and Gimli as we travel, and I notice that you are always clean. Well, I can tell you that right now, you are not. Your face is smudged with dirt, as are your hands, and that leg that invited itself into the adder's jaws this morning could use a bit of attention as well. It is part of my job as a healer to keep my patients neat; I would do it for you, if you would allow me to. Or if you would prefer, I could get Gimli to do it."

Legolas laughed a short laugh, and I was afraid he was going to say something mean, but he merely smiled.

"I would rather eat your cooking than let Gimli bathe me," he replied weakly. "And I am not very keen on the idea of you doing so, either. But I do like to be neat, so I would be grateful if you would help me with this—only those places you mentioned, if you do not mind."

I almost laughed at his qualification of which body parts he would allow me to wash. I had absolutely no intention of bathing anything on this Elf that I could not already see. No intention at all. I rose and got enough water put over the fire to heat for the cleaning of an Elf. I gathered a cloth, and the towel I had used earlier on his leg, and the little bit of soap I had left with me. As soon as the water was warm, I brought it over with the rest of the things and sat beside Legolas. I dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and ran it over his face.

If Elves could purr, I believe this one probably would have. Such was his expression as I ran the warm, soothing cloth over the skin of his face and throat. When I got to his ears, he closed his eyes, and his lips parted in the smallest of smiles, his teeth showing slightly between them. I did not use soap on his face. I knew it would be drying, and I know how I hate it when I have no cream or lotion mixed up to ease the tautness it leaves. I dipped the cloth once again into the water, rinsing it and repeated the procedure, to his repeated delight. I couldn't help but smile. It warms your heart when you can bring such pleasure to someone by doing such a simple thing.

I ran the towel over his face after I was finished, and he seemed to like this as well. I could not keep a silly smile from my face. I was almost able to forget it was Legolas I was attending. He seemed so different right now. Gone was the frowning, mean Elf with never a nice thing to say to me. I knew not how long this truce of ours would continue, but it certainly was nice while it was lasting.

I moved to his hands then, and since I was on his right, away from the fire, I began with that hand. I shoved his sleeve up his arm somewhat and then placed his hand on my knee. I dipped my cloth back into the pot of water, rinsing it again. I smeared it with a small bit of soap and picked up his hand and began to wash it. Since the first time I had seen an Elf, I had marveled at their hands. Especially at the hands of the males. I suppose I could admit this now, for it is no secret, I suppose. I hold some sort of 'fascination' for men's hands. For the length of their fingers; for the way their knuckles bend; whether their fingers are long and slender—which I prefer—or short and stubby—which I prefer less so; for whether they are virile and have calluses or scars; for whether they are effeminate and are clammy and soft; I suppose the list could go on, but I stray from my task.

I used not much soap to preserve my water from getting too soapy. I may be a good healer, but a glutton for punishment I am not, and I did not want to make more than one trip for water to heat for the bathing of one Elf's face, hands and leg. I rinsed that fine Elven hand, patted it dry, returned his sleeve down his arm and moved to his leg.

It was also time to check on the swelling in this leg one last time for the night. I almost dreaded pulling the blanket away from Legolas' body, for fear that the swelling in his leg might be worse. However, stalling for time seldom changes the outcome of an event, so I pulled the blanket aside, lifted his leg and put his foot flat on the bedroll. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer to Eru, opened my eyes and put my fingers to the knot of the bandage. My heart fell. The bandage was tight.

I looked up Legolas' body, seeking his eyes. He was looking back down at me.

I was filled with indecision. If this were a man, there would be no doubt in my mind. I would have a scalpel in hand and would be draining this leg before five minutes had passed. But this was not a man—this was an Elf. Did I truly need to be doing this? I hated to neglect him, but if I did it and it need not be done—how then would I feel?

Then I began to think rationally. I thought about what had just gone through my mind: _I hated to neglect him._ If I even thought there was a chance I would be neglecting him, then I would not! Who else was there to deem whether the procedure was warranted or not? There was a decision to be made by a Human pertaining to an Elf. If I didn't know the answer, Legolas and Gimli surely wouldn't know. Elrond wasn't in Imladris, and we were still a week away from there anyway. By the time we got to Imladris, this injury, with Legolas' healing power, would be nothing more than a bad memory and a story to tell. That settled it. The leg would be drained. Now.

I looked back at my patient, and he looked back at me again, wariness creeping into his expression.

"You are thinking of draining the injury, are you not?" Legolas asked.

"I am more than thinking about it, Legolas," I replied directly, "I am going to do it. The swelling is too great. This afternoon I debated with myself, but decided to allow your body the time to attempt to make it right. But it has not done so. I deliberately left the bandage very loose then, and tonight it is again very tight. It must be drained. There is no other option."

"If you say it must be, then it must be," he said.

I wasted no time being shocked with his attitude; I simply took it as it was offered before he changed his mind.

"Gimli," I called across the fire, "would you fashion a torch for me? I will need more light."

"Immediately, lass," was his reply. He set about in good order making a torch. I know a bit about putting a torch together, but it is something I usually wasn't 'allowed' to do when menfolk were around, so therefore, I wasn't very proficient at it. I found the scalpel I had in my bag of healing supplies and put it aside. I got a pot of clean water put over the fire, and as soon as it was boiling, I added my scalpel, cleaning it as thoroughly as I could. I found the herbs for the poultice I would use and got the bandages ready while the instrument boiled, so it wasn't long before all was ready.

I knelt beside Legolas and explained what I was going to do. I found out early on as a healer that patients—especially male ones—were a lot more cooperative, if they were informed somewhat about what was going to happen to them.

"Legolas," I began, "you have seen this done before, have you not?"

"No," he admitted, "I have not. I have seen the injury before it was done, and what it looked like after it was performed, but I have not seen it done before. I know not exactly what you will do."

"All right, then," I said plainly. "Let me explain. I am going to unwrap your injury and wash all the poultice away. Then I will make a small cut—probably directly atop one of the fang marks again. Then comes the painful part."

Legolas chuckled nervously. "That was not the painful part?"

"Unfortunately, no," I admitted. "I must go a bit deeper with my knife. There is a layer of muscle acting as a barrier, which is keeping the fluid trapped on one side of it, and I must break through that. As soon as I do, the improvement will be immediate." I chanced a glance at Gimli, and wasn't sure in this dim light, but I thought I might have detected a slight greenish tinge to the skin of his face.

"Gimli?" I queried. "Are you still with me?"

Gimli cleared his throat and said, "To be sure, lass; to be sure."

"Good," I said encouragingly, "I was simply checking."

I nodded, indicating that I was ready for him to hold the torch over Legolas for me.

"Just do not set me afire, Gimli," Legolas said with a frown.

"Worry about something worthy of it," Gimli said gruffly. It seemed as if he was feeling a bit sympathetic for his Elven friend, poised, as he was about to go under my surgeon's knife.

"Legolas," I said quietly, "I need you to turn over onto your stomach, please."

He complied without question, propping himself up on his elbows, hands clasped out in front of him on the bedroll. I helped him turn over, because it was apparent with the first movement he made, that any motion of that injured leg was extremely painful. Reducing this swelling would help a great deal with the pain. I knew without any doubt that I was doing exactly the right thing.

Gimli held the torch precisely where I needed it to be. I had a feeling that working in mines and being used to handling torches frequently made Gimli very adept in their use.

I used my dagger to cut the bandage off, not seeing the point of wasting the time or effort in untying the thing. It didn't take long to clean the poultice away from the wound, and I was soon ready to take up my scalpel and make my first cut. Before I did, I wanted to check on my patient.

"Are you doing all right?" I asked the Elf.

"Yes," he said. "Are you finished yet?"

"I am good, sir," I said, "but not _that_ good."

Getting serious again, I said, "Here goes."

I could feel his muscles tense in anticipation, but I didn't let that distract me. I made my first cut along one of the original fang marks from this morning. It was such a shame; the original injuries were already healed! Why had his body's healing elements not taken the swelling down as well? I would have to remember to ask Elrond about this when I had the opportunity. Legolas did not utter a sound—just as he had not earlier today—but I knew that he was not immune to the pain, for as soon as a few moments had passed, I could feel the tension in his leg ease somewhat as he relaxed. I had stopped for a moment to blot away the blood that had collected, so that I would be able to see where I needed to further my cutting. I warned him that I was taking my scalpel to him again. And again he tensed. This time, I must have hit a nerve—literally.

"Ai!" he said quietly. "What are you—_doing_?" It was paining him, and he was complaining somewhat, but it was the most uncomplaining sort of complaining I had ever had directed at me before. I wondered if he would become more insistent.

"I told you what I was doing," I reminded him facetiously, "I'm almost—finished—" I was still trying to reach that muscle. This Elf was too well built for his own good. Or perhaps it had to do with his age. I wondered at that. No. It couldn't be that.

He was starting to squirm reflexively with the pain, and I could not have that. He was making me lose ground in my quest for the elusive piece of tissue I sought.

"Legolas," I quietly scolded, "you must stay still. You are making it harder on both of us. I do not like hurting you any more than you like me doing it, I can promise you. Please, this is very difficult."

He didn't say anything, but he became very still, thank Eru. I again began probing with my knife, and I again felt him tensing even more.

"How much longer—_Maeren_?" he forced out of clenched teeth.

There! I found it!

"_No_ longer, Legolas," I said relieved, "it is done. It probably still pains you because of the pressure I am applying, but the cutting is done. The knife is gone." _Had Legolas really just used my given name?_

"Thank Eru," he said quietly, letting out a huge sigh.

Gimli chuckled quietly. I kept up the pressure I had been applying to the wound. I felt sure this would do the trick, and if his body healed as quickly this time as it had earlier today, I would not be at all surprised to see him up and about by tomorrow noon. He may be limping, but I felt sure we would not be keeping this Elf down for long now.

I lifted the pad I had been using to absorb what his leg was discharging to make sure the bleeding was under control. It was almost completely stopped. In some ways it would be nice were all my patients Elves. Their injuries healed so quickly and apparently their blood had superior clotting ability too. All I would be treating would be injuries; Elves did not have the illnesses we Humans contracted. However, if the Elves I had met so far were any indication, they could be an exasperating bunch!

I took a clean piece of bandaging and draped it over the wound, then rose to my knees and bent over my patient, resting my hand on his back.

"Legolas," I said quietly, "are you doing all right?"

At some time during the procedure, he'd exchanged his elbows for his arms, and now his forehead was resting on them, as they lay crossed on the bedroll. At my question, he raised his head, and he turned his face to me and answered.

"Yes," he said, "I am fine. Thank you for all of your help. I appreciate all you are doing for me."

I smiled at him and told him quite truthfully, "Think nothing of it, Legolas. I am going to warm some more water so I may bathe your leg and prepare the poultice nice and warm, and then I'll get you bandaged. Do not think I have forgotten—because I have not—there is still one of your hands left unwashed, and I will get to it next."

He rose to one elbow and said with a weak chuckle, "No, really. That is not necessary. You have worked long hours over me all day. I believe you may be excused from washing one hand."

I eased him back down to the bedroll. "Just lay still. I'll be right back. Sleep if you can."

I rose and got the water warming. Legolas was right. I had been working over him all day, and I was very tired. However, it felt good to be doing what I do best! Even if it was on that stinker of an Elf—who wasn't such a stinker when he really needed my help. I'd have to remind him of this the next time he got ornery with me.

"Legolas," I said as I approached him with the now steaming water.

"Yes?" he answered.

"I was merely making sure not to startle you in case you had fallen asleep," I replied. "Just rest. I will be finished with you soon and will not bother you again for the night."

I sat and uncovered the wound, marveling at the amount the swelling had already receded. If this were a man I had been treating, the swelling would have been lessened, but not by this marked degree. I may have to emend my earlier prediction. Perhaps by morning—and not noon as I had thought earlier—he would be limping around and be hard to keep down.

Elves. Something told me I was in for a lot of surprises in the coming months of living with them in Imladris.

I soon had my patient all scrubbed and bandaged and tucked in for the night. Gimli was surprised when I threw another piece of wood on the fire, for the night was growing quite late by now.

"Maeren," he said, "you must be tired. Why are you stoking the fire, lass?"

"I need a cup of tea, Gimli," I replied. "After I perform a procedure such as I just did, I often simply need to sit and relax for awhile—sometimes quite awhile. Why don't you catch a few hours of sleep, my friend? I can sit somewhat of a watch. All has been quiet on our journey so far, and we are very close to Imladris, are we not? Nothing is apt to be lurking here, do you suppose? I will scream bloody murder if some fell beast should stumble upon us. It will likely keel over from the fright of my voice and there will be no need for weapons or warriors to slay it."

Gimli chuckled at me and shook his head. He wandered over to sit beside me.

"Lass, you are quite a piece of work, are you aware of that?" he asked.

"It has been told to me a time or two," I said, "but I cannot see it myself, I am afraid."

"Well, you must trust me on this, then," he said looking at me sideways, "I have never known anyone quite like you, and I dare say, I probably never will again. And that will suit me just fine. One of you is all I care to have in my life, and if Aule will bless me, all my life you shall be in it!"

"Here, here!" I said, as if in salute, but my tea was not yet ready, so I 'cheered' in thin air. We both laughed.

"Gimli," came the voice of the Elf, "go to your bedroll and get you some sleep. The two of you carrying on so is keeping me awake."

"I cannot go to my bedroll, you impudent Elf," Gimli said sassily. "It seems you are laying on it. However, I have saved myself a stout blanket, and the fresh hard earth is calling to me. I will heed your advice of taking some rest, for it is sound. I bid the fair healer a good night, but you—you silly Elf—oh, I suppose I bid you a good night as well."

We all laughed as Gimli found himself a nice hard piece of earth and wrapped himself up well within his stout blanket and was soon snoring—softly for a change. Perhaps the hard earth agreed with him.

I fetched my bedroll and hauled it over closer to the fire, and now I was pretty much at a right angle with Legolas. I didn't expect any problems with my patient during the night, since his injury had responded so well to the draining, but a healer never knew, and I wanted to be near in case he may need something. I prepared my tea, dosing it with lots of honey as usual. It was just what I needed right now. Very soothing.

As soon as I was finished drinking my tea, I lay down on my back. I didn't pull a blanket over myself. I hadn't the energy at the moment to do so. I didn't bother with washing up nor did I heed any calls to nature, as I had done that just before I had drained the wound on the Elf's leg. I simply lay flat on my back and stared up into the night sky, looking at the stars glittering in their indigo field overhead. I could feel myself calming down by degrees. My muscles were relaxing, and I was very near to sleeping. I was aware of my baby gently swimming within my body. I wondered what it was like inside there, all snuggled and warm. I suppose babies were totally unaware of their surroundings. As children and later as adults we knew nothing of time spent in the womb. How funny I should even contemplate such thoughts.

"Aragorn's child moves within you," Legolas said.

For some reason his voice didn't startle me. Perhaps because it was such a calming sound, not abrupt and mean like it usually was when he spoke to me. Then it dawned on me how dark it was.

I rose up on one elbow to look at him. He was on his side facing me, and as I turned over to question him, I saw his eyes avert from my body up to my face.

"Yes," I answered, "my baby does move tonight. But how did you know? It is dark, I am clothed, and you are more than three feet away."

"My eyesight is good, even in the dark," he said as if that answered all my questions.

"Well," I said, wondering if he could also see in the dark that I was blushing. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks, "I find it very disconcerting to have someone stare at my person while I am unaware of it—even when I am aware of it."

"I am sorry," he said sounding somewhat chastised. "I had noticed it before in the daylight. I saw the motion and wondered at its source. I decided it could only be the young one, so I inquired. I meant no offense."

I eased my arm down onto the bedroll and propped my head in my hand, lying all the way down on my side. I forgot that the Elves have no mothers-to-be, nor babies to hold. I smiled.

"No offense taken, I suppose," I replied. "Simple curiosity cannot be held against someone." A thought then occurred to me. "Legolas, why are you not asleep? You should be exhausted."

"I was just laying here thinking," he said almost wistfully.

Not wanting to pry, I simply said, "Oh."

I resumed my position on my back once more, again looking skyward and admiring the stars. The vastness of the night sky sometimes took my breath away. If you tried to think of how distant each of the stars and the moon was from Middle Earth, it could make your head spin. And it was all so beautiful.

"I knew not that you had been married," Legolas said quietly.

I wasn't sure I wanted to continue the conversation down the trail it seemed to be leading this time, but for some reason, I answered him.

"Yes, I was. For fifteen years." _There. That wasn't so hard._

"Something must have happened."

"Yes. Something did." _It was getting harder._

"It must have been bad."

"Yes. It was." _Please cease this, Legolas._

"They died in a fire." _Did I just say that?_

"They?"

"I had a twelve year old son as well." _Why am I doing this?_

"Eru, no!" he gasped quietly, obviously shocked at what I had just told him.

Of all the people I had told so far about the tragedy that had befallen my family, Legolas' reaction was the most heartfelt of them all. I turned back over onto my side to see his face, but I could not because he had fallen onto his back, and his arm now covered his eyes again, reminiscent of the way he had kept it for most of the morning. He was very quiet for a while.

"I am sorry for your loss," he said at last.

"That means a lot to me, Legolas," I replied.

He took his arm from his face, and propped himself up on one elbow again.

"Why would you say that?" he asked, his brows drawn together in a frown. "We have hardly had two kind words to say to each other this entire journey. Why would a few from me now mean anything to you?"

"That's why they mean so much to me, Legolas," I replied, "because they are so unexpected. I never thought to even have a pleasant conversation with you at all—not that this is exactly a pleasant conversation, considering the subject."

"Then let us change the subject," he suggested. "Why have you disliked me so much? From the very beginning you have shown nothing but contempt for me. Why? What did I do to you?"

"Well, for one thing," I said in a matter-of-fact voice, you vex me for some reason. "Do not ask me why, for I really do not know; I cannot tell you. The second reason is very personal and horribly embarrassing, and you will laugh and make fun of me, and I just cannot tell you."

"And you expect me to leave you be after you tell me all of those things?" he asked incredulously. He switched into what was probably one of his best seduction type voices, asking me again to disclose this deep, dark secret of mine.

"Maeren," he said serenely, "I promise I will not laugh at you nor will I make fun at your expense. You have my word. If it is serious enough to cause all this trouble between us, then I will not laugh, believe me."

I suppose he had a point, but he had no control over how embarrassed I was going to feel.

I closed my eyes and plowed into the explanation.

"Legolas," I said, "you bear a great resemblance to my dear husband, Dustin. I did not see it at first; in fact the first time I realized it was the day you called me a whore."

His eyes snapped to mine at the sound of the ugly word he had used to describe my character.

"You heard that?" he asked.

I chuckled. "As if you thought I hadn't. You certainly said it loudly enough. Anyway, I had gone off a bit into the wood to think things through, and it was then that I realized just how much you resembled my Dustin, and therefore, how attractive you were to me. I began pushing you away the minute I met you—even before I knew why—because I was attracted to you. I pushed you away by any means necessary—snide remarks, making fun—whatever it took." I looked at his face, and it gave away nothing. "All right, go ahead and laugh."

"I have no intention of laughing," he said with a frown, "I almost wish I could apologize to you."

"For what?" I asked completely puzzled.

"It must be hard having to be around a constant reminder of someone who is lost to you. I regret that you had to be put through such a thing." At my uncomfortable expression, he added, "What? Do you think me incapable of feeling sympathy for someone?"

"Of course not!" I exclaimed. "I am simply surprised you would even think to feel that way. See? It simply shows that even after spending weeks together, we know each other not at all!"

"Perhaps that is the source of our vexation with one another?" he ventured to guess.

"No," we both answered together. Then we laughed lightly.

We were quiet for a few minutes, when Legolas spoke again.

"So, Maeren, are you still attracted to me?" he asked slyly, with one eyebrow raised.

"No, but I am still vexed by you," I replied with a grin.

"Ah, but you do find Elladan attractive, do you not?" he asked with an impish quirk to his mouth.

I frowned. "Now what would make you ask a silly thing like that?"

"Well," he answered slyly, "I simply hope it is true. He certainly finds you to be so. I would hate to see his affections tossed about by a common—"

"Watch it, Elf," I said in warning. He chuckled quietly. I continued, "I find it hard to believe he finds me anything of the sort."

Legolas looked me in the eyes and said, "I would not make any wagers on that, my dear healer, were I you. One need only look at him to see it."

"Well whether he does or he doesn't, or I do or I don't is quite beside the point, and none of your business anyway! And I hope you know that attraction and affection each have little to do with one another; I have found that out the hard way—and do not ask me to explain that either, for I will not. What I will say to you is, to lay yourself down and go to sleep. Mother has spoken! You have had a hard day and I have as well. Now, good night to you, Elfling. Pleasant dreams."

I lay myself down, and this time I pulled my blanket up to my chin. Perhaps the Elf wouldn't begin perusing my body and watching my baby moving around. I hoped he wouldn't find anything else about me entertaining at all tonight. I was very tired of a sudden and needed to sleep.

I lay there for a few minutes, finally relaxing. I took a deep breath, at last feeling nearer to sleep.

"Good night, Naneth," Legolas said tiredly. "Pleasant dreams."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	27. Friends and Foes

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I am going to kill that Elf!

I just awoke and sat up in my bedroll. I glanced to the side of me expecting to see Legolas asleep where I left him the night before, and what do I find? An empty bedroll! No Elf! The bandage I had so carefully wrapped around his injury late last night is bundled into a ball and tossed to the end of the pallet, but the one who should be wearing it is nowhere to be seen. _I suppose this means the truce is off?_

"Ai!" Legolas shouted from the brush. "Sweet Eru!"

I closed my eyes. _Were not these same words uttered not just yesterday morn?_

I looked across the fire to where Gimli sat muttering and shaking his head. The look he had on his face told me that Legolas was indeed feeling much better today, and was in fact back to his same irritating self.

"I will not even rise to the Elf's bait again this morning. I have been the butt of one too many of his jests already," Gimli said with the air of a man in the throes of a massive headache.

"You think he is not really in trouble again?" I asked skeptically.

"He has been doing this sort of thing for the past hour already," Gimli insisted. "I am surprised he has not awoken you by now. In fact, I believe that to be his sole purpose, if you would ask my opinion of the whole affair."

Part of me wished to laugh at Gimli's silliness, but the larger part of me just wanted to cry. I had so liked the nice Elf I had been tending to, and now he was gone—replaced by that wicked Elf who vexed me to no end.

"I suppose an Elf could die, bitten by ten adders in the brush, and no one would come to his aid," Legolas said with a frown as he made his way toward the fire. He was indeed feeling better. I had never seen him in such an_—Elven mood_. I could not describe it in any other way. He was light on his feet. _Not even a limp!_ He was beyond alert. His face literally shone. His expression screamed sharpness. It was as if everything about being an Elf had been renewed for him overnight.

_I seriously needed to have some very deep discussions with Elrond once he was back in residence in Imladris. He had some extensive teaching on the intricacies of Elves to impart to me, that was apparent._

"Were an Elf indeed bitten by ten adders in the brush, he would not be needing any aid, for he would be beyond it!" Gimli said snidely to the grousing Elf. "It will please you, no doubt, that you have accomplished your goal of waking the lass, Legolas."

"It is about time she was up," he declared. "The morning grows old. Up with you, Naneth! See to yourself, so that we may be off. We've leagues to travel yet today."

"Do not call me that, Legolas," I said lamely. "I am not your mother."

"You objected not yesterday," Legolas said with a bit too much perkiness.

"Yesterday, you were sick and pathetic, with a face only a mother could love," I replied. "Today, you are vexing and obnoxious, with a face I am not sure anyone could love."

"Are we not crabby this morning, dear healer?" the Elf asked sarcastically.

"Well if I am, you have only yourself to blame for it," I told him. "I awake only to find you up on your leg before I have given you leave to be so. You have removed your bandage, and you are playing pranks on Gimli and waking me up after I toiled for hours over you yesterday and last night. I asked naught from you in return and what do I get but naught _and less?_"

I rose from my bed and gathered some clothes and my soap and a towel. I was going to clean myself up and try to improve my mood somewhat. Perhaps if I soaked my head in the river it would calm my urge to kill this blasted Elf.

It took me not long at all to get myself scrubbed and dried and clad in clean clothes. I made my way back up the slant of the Bruinen's bank and walked tiredly into the campsite. I could hardly believe my eyes as I beheld what was before me. The entire campsite was swept clean of our gear. Dori was saddled and bridled. She had been brushed, and from the looks of her satisfied expression, someone had given her some sort of treat that she liked. I usually brushed my hair out till it dried somewhat and then put it back up into its pins, but it appeared that Legolas was not going to give me the time to do so this morning. Besides, everything was packed up, and I felt not like unpacking it. I draped the wet towel in front of the saddle, intending to wash it later this evening when we camped for the night. My dirty clothes went into my bag reserved for such things, and I supposed I was ready, except for one very important thing—I had not gotten to have my morning tea. _Woe is me._

I felt very much like I had the day after I had taken too much Valerian—extremely tired and unable to come fully awake. I was truly going to miss my morning tea. I gave Dori a pat as I took the reins and hefted myself into the saddle. As I settled both of my boots into the stirrups, and adjusted my seat, I noticed that Legolas was standing beside me, a steaming cup in his hands nestled within the pad in which I had served tea to him just last night.

"I believe you take it with lots of honey?" he asked with a genuine smile.

I took the cup eagerly, and thanked him profusely, almost gushing, I am sure, so grateful was I for such a wonderful gift.

"I am sorry if I am being vexing again today," he explained, "but since I spent the entire day abed yesterday, I find myself with an excess of energy." I heard Gimli stifle a curse of incredulity or some such thing beneath a thin disguise of a cough as Legolas leapt atop his horse. The Elf then urged the beast up next to a fallen log where Gimli could boost himself into place behind him. We walked our horses slowly while I sipped at my tea and savored every last drop.

"Legolas," I said, "I know I said this before, but thank you for the tea. You truly know not how much it means to me to have it this morning."

"Do me one favor," he said, in what appeared to be complete seriousness. "Simply remember this gesture when I become vexing, because half of the time, I know not what I have done to make you so angry."

I laughed. "I promise to try." I suddenly remembered the rolled-up bandage I had seen left on his bedroll.

"Legolas," I said skeptically, "is your injury truly healed so completely you need not even a small bandage any more?"

He glanced at me and said, "Yes, it truly is. There is a scab, _if you must know_, and it is a bit sore. But it does not cause me to limp, as you could plainly see for yourself. However, after a few hours on horseback, I imagine it will stiffen, and I will limp for a while once we stop; at least until I work the stiffness out once again. The swelling is almost completely down—these are the leggings you cut yesterday—I sewed them up while you slept; my boot is a little more snug than usual, but not perilously bad. I will watch it to make sure it does not swell unduly. I am fine, and I thank you for your healing and your continued concern."

"And I thank you for a thorough report," I answered with a smile. _My was he wordy this morning._ "Now I will not bother you about it again." At his sideways skeptical look I added, "I promise!" He simply smiled.

I finished my tea and stowed the cup in one of my bags. Legolas kicked up his beautiful Elven horse and I did the same to Dori, and we rode without stopping till well past the noon hour. It was so beautiful here, on this side of Middle Earth. So lush and green near the Bruinen, and yes, we could still hear the Loudwater call. This type of countryside was so foreign to me, compared with the grasslands of Rohan; the golden grasses that rolled as a sea in the never ceasing wind over the plain. I put the thoughts from my mind. Even among all of this beauty, thoughts of my home left my heart bereft for the sight of it.

We stopped about mid afternoon, much to my happiness. I was definitely flagging. I was not even aware of it, so caught up in the rhythm of the ride was I; until I felt two different arms steady me, even though our pace had not slowed. I suddenly became more alert, and realized that Legolas and Gimli both were bracing me in my saddle, and as soon as I knew I had almost fallen, I quickly righted myself, shrugged out of their grasp and slowly brought Dori completely to a halt.

"I suppose that is my clue that I need to stop and rest, is it not?" I asked, embarrassed. "I am sorry to slow us down so much. I know not what is wrong with me."

"Could it have something to do with you acting as a healer all of yesterday and most of the night, then not being allowed to get all the sleep you required—not to mention being with child—as well as not having been allowed to eat a meal at a regular time?" Gimli demanded, growing louder as he aimed his tirade at the Elf seated in front of him on the horse.

Legolas was down off his mount before Gimli was even finished berating him for all his sins against me, and had his Elven hands around my waist, helping me from Dori's back. He steadied me as he walked me toward a stand of trees, and he helped me sit against the trunk of one of them.

"I could help you lie down, if you would prefer," he said with such concern I almost laughed.

"No," I said shakily. "I will be fine. In fact, just bring me something from the pack horse, and let me eat a bit, and I'll be ready to ride in just a few minutes. No need to fuss."

He didn't answer me. He stood and returned to where the horses were, holding out his arm to help Gimli down from the horse where he was perched. Gimli came over to where I was sitting, bearing one of the bags containing some of the food. He began sorting through it, offering me different choices. The choices were becoming fewer. We had been on the journey for over three weeks now, but I could still choose from apples, pears, a small assortment of nuts and three and a half strips of dried venison. I chose a pear, a strip of the dried meat and all of the nuts. So they could call me a hog, I cared not. Too bad. I was hungry and on the verge of collapse. I topped it off with water from my water skin and felt immensely better for having had the meal, truth be known.

"Well, sirs," I said as I rose, "I'm ready to ride. How about the two of you?"

"I am not ready," Legolas said.

"I am not either," Gimli added.

"Why not?" I asked suspiciously. "You are simply sitting there; you aren't doing anything else. Why aren't we leaving?"

"I am just not ready yet," Legolas said again.

"Neither am I," Gimli echoed.

"What is going on?" I asked. "If you two are doing this because you think I cannot sit a horse any longer, you are both wrong. Now come on. Get up and let us be on our way."

"I am not ready to go!" Legolas said, sounding irate. "Now sit down over there and quit making so much noise!"

"Legolas!" Gimli yelled. "I agreed that we should rest here for a few hours, but I have had enough of your mouth! I know not what gives you the idea that you may speak to Maeren in any way that you choose, but you may not—not in _my_ presence you may not!"

_Valar no! It couldn't be! Not the ridiculous weeping again!_

I turned myself around and fled to where I could hear the Bruinen calling the most loudly. I didn't run. I could barely even walk, blinded as I was by my tears. I was soon far enough into the trees, and near the river for comfort, and I lay myself down to cry my heart out. I was so desperately tired and everything seemed so wrong right now. We were all of a sudden shouting at each other, I felt so horrible, and I was missing my home again. I knew that most of my melancholy was simply brought on by the stress of yesterday, and the overwhelming fatigue that I felt. Just given time and the venting of a few of these tears, and all would be right again. I knew it. I just had to get through this, that was all.

It did not take long before I was asleep. I really know not how long I actually slept, but the shadows were lengthening when I finally awoke. And I wasn't alone. Legolas was sitting right beside me. He had his boots flat on the ground, his legs forming a bridge from his feet to his hips on the ground, and his arms were resting on his knees. He somehow knew I was awake, but I know not how-I'd opened my eyes for only a second. Perhaps he noticed the difference in my breathing.

"I am sorry for shouting at you, Maeren," he said quietly. "I truly did not mean to make you cry. You see, I felt guilty for waking you up this morning and pushing you so hard and making you miss your meals today. So what did I do? I took it out on the one I am guilty of harming. One of my many faults."

_The Elf was humbling himself? And to me?_

I opened my eyes, and since I was lying on my side, I looked up at him. His face was serious, and though he wasn't exactly frowning, he did have a little furrow between his brows, as if he was puzzled by something.

"What exactly do you want from me, Legolas?" I asked tiredly. For some reason I felt as if there was more to this than just a need for a simple confession.

"I only want your forgiveness," he replied, "that is all."

"Something confuses you, though," I said almost in accusation. "Just say what is on your mind. Stop walking on tiptoes. It is you who is liable to bite among our group, not me."

"What confuses me," he said in all earnestness, "is your ability to weep in an instant. One moment you are fine, the next you are crying. I have never witnessed anything like it before. It is worrisome. I like it not. It confuses me, and more importantly—it scares me, and nothing much scares me. That angers me even more!"

I started laughing then, though it was a weak attempt and it didn't last long. I found my melancholia had not totally lifted after all. Probably only a night's rest was going to banish it completely.

"Legolas," I began in explanation, "let me first tell you that whether you believe it or not, I am not a weeper by nature. I weep at the regular events—births, deaths, that sort of thing. However, when a woman is with child, something occurs within her body that changes her. She weeps easily and often. However, most healers—which I remind you are _for the most part men_—say it is simply emotion wrought by the newness of the condition and the drastic change in the appearance in the woman's body. Her body grows huge and misshapen and she sees herself as ugly and is afraid her husband will not love her that way. The healers also say that the fear of the pain of the birth itself has the woman on edge, causing her to be near to tears at all times. Another favorite is that she fears she will not make a good mother and likewise this causes her emotions to bubble over.

"I can see how these ideas might make sense for first time mothers, but this sort of thing happens to a woman every single time she is with child. After a woman has six children, she no longer cares if her husband finds her beautiful or not! He obviously does, or she would not be in the condition she is in! These explanations are too simple; they make no sense to me, for while childbirth is no walk in the garden, I have been through it before, and know what to expect, yet here I am weeping about something that ordinarily I would yell back at you for. No, it is not fear or any such thing that makes a women that is with child weep. I know not what it is yet, but one day, healers will know, and it won't be something stupid such as what they think now."

I glanced at Legolas and was surprised at the look of genuine interest he had on his face. For once I had said more than one consecutive sentence, and he hadn't gone glassy-eyed with disinterest before I was less than half way through with the statement. As I sat there watching him, I saw his gaze shift—directly to where my baby was playing within my body. I decided to take a chance with the Elf, a huge chance, since he already thought me of loose character, but if his curiosity was truly Elven—and I knew that it was—he would not be able to resist.

I sat completely upright, and crossed my legs, inching just a bit closer to the Elf at my side. I took one of his hands from atop one of his knees. He gave me just the token amount of resistance, but not much of which to speak.

"Trust me," I said. I placed his hand over the swell of my abdomen, just as the baby made a dash beneath it. Legolas' eyes grew wide, and his lips parted slightly in awe. His gaze darted to mine as the baby turned quickly again within me.

"That is amazing," he breathed. "How can you think of anything else, with all of that happening within you?"

"When one stops to think of it, it is truly amazing, is it not?" I asked. "Unfortunately, over time, one gets used to it. There are times, as the baby grows larger that it can become rather painful. The baby decides to take a nap in a particular place that sends shooting pain down the leg or through the lower back. And when it gets on toward the time when the baby is due to be born, and there is hardly any room for it to maneuver anymore, the baby cares not. He continues to play and swim, using elbows and knees—quite roughly at times. Sleep becomes but a fleeting memory for the mother-to-be."

Legolas laughed and removed his hand from my stomach.

"Thank you for allowing me to feel that," he said sincerely. "After my being rude to you, you can still be kind to me. Why do you vex me so, Maeren? I wish I knew the answer to my question."

"I wish I knew it, too," I replied. "Then I would not do whatever it is. I wish not to be yelled at any more."

Legolas stood and held out his hands to me, to help me rise as well. As soon as I had, he did not relinquish his hold on them; he pulled me into his arms for a moment, and gave me a hug. To say I was surprised would be putting it mildly.

Into my ear he said quietly, "I know a mere embrace cannot take away the hurt that I cause; it is but a small token of gratitude for all you have done for me. I hope you accept it, and try not to think too ill of me. I truly am a good person—to everyone else but you, I am sorry to say. I am _very_ sorry to say." He drew back and gave me a sad smile. But as quickly as the sad smile had come, it was gone, replaced by a mischievous grin with a gleam in his eyes to match.

"Now," he said, as he grabbed my hand and began leading me back to where we had been a few hours ago. "We are stopping for the rest of the day. Gimli and I will be taking care of you." He held up a hand at my protest, silencing me before I could even utter a word. "You are to rest, or to read, or to bathe—anything you wish to do. If you prefer to help us or whatever it is you want to do, you may do it. No matter what it is."

I could not believe my ears! Not only were we stopping, I could sleep for the rest of the day and the night as well if I chose. I could have twenty cups of tea, if I thought that I could hold them all, and not wear myself out answering Mother Nature's calls all the night long!

_Oh, the possibilities._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

The first order of business, was to see to my sweet Dori. I had neglected her for far too long. I needn't have worried, however. Dori had been freed of her tack, brushed and set free with the other two horses, and they were all three happily grazing on the sweet grass that grew all around this lush countryside. My gear had been stowed to one side as it always was, and I could move it wherever I would want to, whenever I got to it. Gimli was seated at the small fire smoking his pipe, and he gave me a warm smile as I came walking into the clearing.

"Gimli," I said, "I am sorry for being so cranky. It is simply fatigue; that is all."

"Think nothing of it, lass," my sweet Dwaven friend said kindly. "I only hope you gave that Elf the tongue lashing he deserved before you brought him back here, that is all."

"Believe it or not, Gimli," I said confidentially as I sat down beside him, "he gave one to himself."

Gimli's feigned stunned expression was laughable and something told me it wasn't entirely feigned.

"Tis hard to believe, to be sure," Gimli stated as he started to smile. "But I have seen you work a bit of magic on that lad a time or two in the past few days, so it is not entirely surprising me to hear you say such a thing."

I laughed at his words and rose once again.

"Legolas told me I could do exactly as I wished," I said skeptically. "Was he telling me truthfully?"

"That he was, my dear," Gimli affirmed. "Anything your dear heart desires. Your wishes are our commands."

"Hmmm," I mumbled. "I will give this some thought while I go soak my head once again in the Loudwater. Perhaps it can clear some more of the cobwebs out from between my ears. My mind has not been very clear today and I like it not at all."

I went to my bags and rummaged through my clothes. Along with clean under things, I chose a nightdress, of all things. I ached for comfort that these leggings just could not give me this evening. I actually chose two - one would have been too thin, and I wanted not to be thought of as anything other than proper. They were plain, white, simple, billowy dresses, with short sleeves and round necklines and _no waistlines_, and they would hang to my ankles. I dug further within my bag for some clean stockings, and my shoes for a change. _Comfort. What a relief._ I gathered the rest of my bathing items and fled to the river, and was gone for quite a long while, compared to the length of time it usually took me. I had gotten quite used to the idea that I had an audience for the most basic of functions. In fact, I had ceased to think about it anymore. It would do me no good. I would only get angry and it would change nothing. Somewhat like beating an already dead horse—useless.

When I finally made my way back to the campsite, the sun was still a bit above the horizon, and Legolas and Gimli had something for supper—which on closer inspection, turned out to be two large hares—roasting over the fire. I stowed my bath items, hung up my towel and spread my bedroll close to the fire. My hair was wet, and I was still a bit chilled from the coldness of the Bruinen. I fetched my comb and sat myself down on my bed and began to comb through the tangles in my hair. Every once in a while, I would have to set down the comb and work a knot out with my fingers. My hair was thick and the knots it tangled into could be formidable indeed.

After I had set down my comb for perhaps the tenth time, Legolas sat down beside me, and slapped my hands gently away from the knot I was working with. I frowned at him, but he smiled at me, and began working at the knot in my hair. It didn't take him nearly the amount of time to work through it than it had been taking me to untangle the others I had been working with, so when he took up my comb, I didn't protest. He ran the comb gently through my hair, stopping before he would come to a knot, then working the tangle free, and continuing with the combing, until my entire head would allow the passage of the comb without complaint. He handed the comb back to me and I thanked him. He got up and returned to the roasting hares. Gimli smiled at me, as if to tell me I was working miracles with this blasted Elf, I suppose. I sat there steeped in the warmth of the fire, and thankful that the mood of our group had turned from quarrelsome back to amicable. I could handle amicable while I was tired. I had proved this afternoon, that I could not handle quarrelsome in my present state of fatigue.

"Legolas," I said, "before the light is completely gone, I would like to see your leg where the adder bit you yesterday."

He looked at me from the corner of one eye. "You promised you would not ask me about it again," he said. "You would go back on your word?"

"You did not mean what you said when you told me that I could do anything I wished?" I asked. "This is what I wish."

"So now you would use guilt on me?" he asked accusingly. That familiar sting he used when speaking to me when I irritated him was just on the fringes of the words he spoke. It seemed as if I was using that elusive 'vexing' way I had about me again, but for the life of me, I still could not pinpoint just exactly what it was I was doing to provoke him—besides being alive and on Middle Earth.

"I am using no guilt," I declared. "Earlier this afternoon, I gave you a glimpse of my small miracle. I thought you may like to share with me the mystery of your Elven healing, which to me is quite a bit more than just a small miracle. As a healer it is a phenomenon that muddles my mind. I do not understand it and never will. That is why I ask this of you. Not to force guilt on you, or to have some kind of power over you. Only to satisfy a fraction of my curiosity of the mystery of Elves."

Legolas closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them again, giving me a look that was almost a plea for my forgiveness. Instead of apologizing needlessly, however, Legolas sat down beside me once again, and began tugging at his boot. He had it off in short order, not at all going through the song and dance Gimli and I had to go through to accomplish its removal yesterday morning. He then pushed his leggings up his leg until the bite mark—or the vague mark that was left—was visible. He turned the back of his leg toward me, so I could get a better look. I peered down at it, and ran my index finger along scab, that flaked off as I touched it, revealing a faint white scar beneath it. I shook my head at the wonder of it. His leg was lean and muscled as it always was. I pressed my fingertip into the muscle for a few seconds and not a dent remained. No hint of swelling in it at all. It defied all reason. Miraculous.

"Thank you, Legolas," I said. "I simply would not have believed it had I not witnessed it myself. An adder bite has a man out of action for at least three weeks, and that is if there are absolutely no complications. Say he was bitten and his leg had to be drained, as yours did; it would be a month at least before he could again be back to his work, whatever his work happened to be. When I said last night that the draining would have immediate results, I had no idea that with Elves it would be that immediate. I meant that perhaps by this evening your leg may be half the size it was last night. That is why it frustrated me so to find you up and about this morning without my leave. And now, it is completely healed. It is beyond all my rational thought."

The Elf began lowering his leggings back into place and replacing his boot back on his foot.

Surprising me again, he placed his forehead against mine and said quietly, "I will not ask your forgiveness again, just know that it is silently asked for at all times that I hurt you. You deserve so much better than what I give you. If you decide to sever what small amount of friendship we have, I would not blame you. You have every right to.

"Yet think not that I will not protect you with my life should you need it. And I say that not only because you carry Aragorn's child. At one time that would have been the only reason I would have done so. Now I do it out of love for you. You vex me unbelievably at times; _I just want to shake you_. But you have my heart nonetheless. You are a remarkable person, and I would be honored to count you among my friends, but I would understand were you to not return the honor."

I took his face in my hands and turned it so that I could place a kiss on one of his cheeks.

"Legolas," I said sincerely, "I have tried several times to describe our relationship to myself, and I have been unable to. I love you—I hate you. I know not which it is. It is both at times, I believe. I have decided that we are as oil and water; we do not mix, we simply exist side by side. That need not mean we must be at war with one another, but neither does it mean we must adore one another either. I suspect we will continue to vex and yell at each other, but as long as we do not allow it to degenerate into something ugly and prolonged, we will be all right with each other. And possibly, if we could perhaps find something humorous in our disagreements, we may be better able to diffuse some of the more spiteful situations, do you not agree somewhat with these ideas?"

"I believe they have merit," he replied. "I am ready to try anything at this point, Maeren. I feel very ashamed of myself for the way that I treat you, but even feeling this way does not stop me from doing it. I fear I need counsel with Lord Elrond, or at the very least with my father, the King." This last statement was delivered by the Elf with such dismay that I wanted to laugh, but I dared not to. He was so serious and had meant what he said so profoundly, that I just could not do such a thing.

I was saved from trying to think of what exactly to say, when Gimli announced that our feast was at hand. _Praise be for Dwarves with excellent timing!_ I knew not what to say to Legolas after his last comment, and truthfully, I was afraid to open my mouth for fear I would burst out laughing.

It was unusual to have Gimli serving the two of us. It was usually Legolas who would hunt, and for the most part, prepare and serve the meals. Gimli and I would clean up afterward, and we usually set up the camp and broke it down to depart as well. This had been an uncommon day from all perspectives.

Gimli doled out generous portions of the meat to each of us, and we all ate with relish—well Gimli and I did. I think that Legolas never ate with anything but polished finesse. I wondered to myself if his mother ever used a bib when she fed him when he was an infant. I was convinced that if I took much time trying to figure out the inner workings of Elves, that I would be rendered senseless by the attempt. Trying to decipher Elves was just too much to ask of one Human brain.

As soon as we were finished, Gimli and Legolas began to clear away the remains of our meal. I started to rise to help, but they both threw a small fit, so I remained seated on my bedroll. It wasn't long before I removed my shoes and curled up on my side beneath my blanket, just watching the fire and listening to my friends as they bantered back and forth while they set the camp to rights for the night.

_My friends_. Gimli was well and truly my friend. Was Legolas? I still wasn't sure. He was a sort of person one looked for in a friend. All you had to do was look into his face and see it. It was definitely there. He was loyal, kind, generous—all the things people would want in a friend. Only he couldn't find it within his heart to give those things to me. It was puzzling why he could not manage to do so. Well, I liked him well enough, but it certainly would not break my heart, nor would I pine away for want of his friendship, so I would not spend any more time trying to figure it out. It was simply a puzzle, that's all. A very silly puzzle.

I reluctantly sat up - nature was calling me, and if I did not heed the call now, I would have to wake from a sound sleep to do so later. I put my shoes back on and walked a short distance into the brush. I found an appropriate spot and dropped my drawers, so to speak, did my business, and just as I was about to make my way back to the clearing of our campsite, I heard a low growl from somewhere behind me. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise, and the skin tingle there as well. I stood still as a stone, not daring to move. Surely Gimli or Legolas saw me leave the campsite. I always took it for granted that they followed me wherever I went; they had done so since the very first day_. If they had, why were they not doing something about whatever it was that was growling at me from a few feet away? _

I wanted to run, but knew that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Prey ran away from the hunter. If I wanted to be caught, running was what I _should_ do. I forced myself to stand there and shake. I had begun to tremble with the fright of it all, unable to stop myself no matter how many times I tried to make myself be calm. I could actually hear stealthy footfalls of whatever it was that was stalking me now. It stopped once again, emitting another low eerie growl. I wanted to shout for my comrades, but of this I was not so sure. Should I be quiet, or should I make noise? Would it scare the beast away, or would it scare it into attacking me? I squeezed my eyes shut and began to pray to the Valar for deliverance from whatever fell beast this predator was.

Then suddenly, there were yellow eyes gleaming a short distance away. It was fairly dark out by now, but the moon was three quarters full and cast quite a bit of light. It was a large wolf, and I fancied I could see its fangs drip as its mouth hung open hungrily, waiting to make a meal of me. It kept its yellow eyes trained on me, but I know not why it simply stood there and stared at me. Not that I was complaining about it, other than the uncertainty was irritating. If it was going to harm me, I would just as soon it attack as continue to draw the suspense out this way.

It seemed to suddenly decide to do just that. It got a determined look in its eyes and lowered its head. Its growl became fierce and it began at first walking toward me. Its speed increased rapidly and at the last moment it took a huge leap—

I closed my eyes and screamed, dropping as I did so, and I covered my head with my hands. I thanked the Valar for all I had been given in my life, and asked them to watch over my father and brothers, and all the friends I had been blessed with—perhaps even Legolas—

The next thing I knew I was being held in strong arms, and I was weeping and holding on to Legolas for dear life. Gimli was suddenly right beside me, and before I knew it, Legolas had lifted me up and was carrying me back to the campsite. He sat upon my bedroll, with me still in his arms, and he cradled me and rocked me as I wept hysterically.

"Lass, it is all right now, sweetheart," I heard Gimli croon, "twas a wolf, but Legolas shot it through the heart with an arrow. You are safe now, my dear."

Legolas said nothing, but he held me tightly, and it was just the comfort I needed.

"Gimli," I heard Legolas say, "could you make her a cup of tea? I think that would help. She usually likes that, you know."

"That is a good idea, lad," I heard Gimli answer. "I will get right to it." And I heard Gimli begin to make my liquid comfort. What wonderful friends I have—both of them.

I finally had control of myself somewhat, and I lifted my head, wiping my eyes on the backs of my hands.

"It seems all I can do today is weep, does it not?" I asked shakily, with a weak laugh. It felt strange sitting so familiarly in the Elf's lap this way. Then I had an irritating thought.

"I mean not to be ungrateful, but—what took you so long?" I asked almost whining.

Legolas laughed lightly at my tone, I believe.

"I am sorry about that, Maeren," he replied, "but the wolf was a female with cubs, and I hated to kill her unless I was certain she was going to harm you. Please believe me—I had the situation under control at all times. I know _you_ did not know that, and I am very sorry for the fright that it caused you. I wanted to avoid having to kill the cubs as well. They will not survive on their own. They will be too young to do so, and to leave them alive would be cruel. I truly had only good intentions in waiting to fire upon the wolf."

"I mean not to doubt you," I said with a great deal of doubt, "but how in Valar's name could you tell in the dark it was female, much less that it had cubs?"

"Elven mystery again, Maeren," he replied. "My eyesight is very good in the dark. Her body hung low to the ground; she was obviously nursing cubs."

I couldn't help myself, I put my arms around his waist again. Thinking about that wolf leaping at me, brought shivers up and down my spine once more, and I needed the solid comfort of someone to hold.

"I am sorry for complaining, Legolas, and for doubting you," I said sincerely. "Thank you for saving my life. There is no doubt, that wolf would have killed me had you not been there with your bow."

He tightened his hold on me once again, and replied, "I told you before, I will protect you with my life, and I meant it. You have nothing to fear as long as you are with me. Nothing at all."

Gimli had my tea ready, and was asking me how much honey to instill in it. Legolas relinquished his hold on me, scooting over and making room for me to sit up on my own. I took the cup of hot honeyed tea from Gimli, thanking him profusely. I sipped and savored the beverage as if it was the finest of expensive wines ever offered, and to me, it was better. I was finally beginning to relax somewhat.

"How will you find the cubs in the dark?" I asked Legolas as I drank from my cup. "More Elven mystery?"

"I suppose you would think so," he replied. "I will find her track leading away from her body. Ithil is three-quarters, and provides good light for tracking. Wolf scent is not hard to discern, then I have simply to listen for their little voices. It should not take me long."

"Makes me sad," I declared bleakly, "though I well understand the need for it. They cannot be allowed to starve to death."

When the cup was empty, Gimli held his hand out to me, to take my empty cup, and I smiled and gave it to him, bowing my head to him in thanks. Legolas patted the bedroll, inviting me to lay myself down and get comfortable, which I did; I was fast beginning to flag. I lay flat on my back, with Legolas sitting right by my head, and he began to idly stroke my hair. I somehow got the feeling that perhaps the wolf coming after me may have scared the Elf a bit more than he had let on.

"Gimli," I heard Legolas say, "look." I saw him gesture with his head down toward me.

_What on Middle Earth was the Elf up to now?_

"What, you crazy Elf?" Gimli asked, somewhat perturbed.

"Look at Maeren's stomach," Legolas said with more firmness.

"Yes?" Gimli said. "So?"

"Come closer, you nearsighted Dwarf," Legolas laughed, "and Maeren will show you something amazing."

"Truly, Gimli," I piped in, "What Legolas is saying is true. I have something amazing to show you."

Gimli sighed hugely and shook his head. "I am very tired, you two. I feel not like playing any games, so this had better be good!"

"Trust us, it is," Legolas said, grinning widely.

Gimli walked around the fire and sat beside me. "All right, I am here. Where is this show I am needing to attend?"

I flattened my back against my bedroll, and smoothed the wrinkles out of my nightdresses. My stomach was not huge by any means yet, and one had to look closely to see the baby as it moved, but it could be done if you looked long enough. I only hoped the child would cooperate this time. We were soon rewarded when my baby swam through my womb, causing a ripple effect over my abdomen. Gimli's lips parted and he uttered a small gasp. I could not resist his awe, so I took his hand, and placed it on my belly, just as I had done with Legolas' earlier today. He was very skeptical at first, wondering if it was proper, I am sure. I would not let his hand go, and made him let me place it where I would. The look of awe on his face brought tears to my eyes once again.

"Maeren!" he gasped, "the wonder of it all!"

"See?" Legolas said, all grins. "Aragorn's child moves within her all the time." Legolas leaned over and placed his hand next to Gimli's glancing at my face, with his eyebrows raised, asking permission belatedly, I suppose. I simply smiled and nodded my head, finding joy in their wonder over such a small thing—something I took for granted, but to the Elves, at least, was something that was rarer than rare to them.

We stayed gathered together in this way for several minutes; I flat on my back, with an Elf and a Dwarf leaning over my belly, hands touching my body hoping to catch fleeting movements of the child within me.

I wondered what Aragorn would say if he could see us here now. Had he any idea what an uproar we had inadvertently caused among his friends—especially among the Elves? Somehow, I thought he probably did not. And he most assuredly would not believe his eyes were he to witness this scene, as it was displayed at this moment in time.

I unsuccessfully stifled a huge yawn, and Gimli was the first to remove his hand. He swatted Legolas' hand away from me, and helped me straighten my blanket out. He then actually tucked me in! Before leaving me for the night, he bent and kissed my cheek.

"Lass, that was as close to losing you as I ever wish to get," he said gruffly. "Do not be scaring me that way ever again!"

"You have my word, Gimli," I said sincerely. "The next time I have a wolf at my beck and call, I will tell it to leave me be and not attack. Will that suit you, dear friend?"

"That suits me, lass," he said, with tears in his eyes. He gave my arm one last pat and rose. He and Legolas had a quiet conversation across the campsite from me, then Gimli found his bedroll, and with surprising speed and deftness, rolled himself up in it and seemed to sleep almost in one moment.

I was not long behind him, I knew, but in the back of my mind, I was still fearful. I had this feeling that something was going to leap out at me when I least expected it. I liked it not at all. I am not usually a person given to irrational fear, although nearly being eaten by a ferocious wolf could hardly be classified as being irrational, I do not believe. It seems that Legolas sensed that I was still afraid. He was soon by my side, crouched next to me. He had his bow in hand, and his quiver strapped on. He was going to find the poor little wolf cubs.

"Fear not, Maeren," he said kindly. "Gimli sleeps loudly, it is true, but he does sleep lightly when he is the only one left as protection. And he is quite formidable with his axe. You have not seen him in action, and I am not sure you truly want to.A fierce warrior he is, have no doubt about it. I will be back soon, and I promise to watch over you. Have no fear. Sleep soundly and peacefully. The small swimmer needs you to rest."

I smiled. "Thank you again, Legolas. You are a true friend."

His smile widened at my words, and I knew then that we had finally reached a goal we had both been striving for—true friendship between us. Yes, we would vex and irritate each other, without doubt. He would yell at me, and I would probably yell back and weep again, truth be known. But I believe that deep down, we both now knew that we were well and truly friends.

Friends. Whoever would have thought? Legolas and Maeren are friends.

_Miracles do happen._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_


	28. Splishing and Splashing

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Imladris was more than beautiful.

If people insisted on calling Imladris beautiful, they were simply going to have to change the definition of the word, for it did not describe adequately the scene before me now. Legolas, Gimli and I had ridden for the past four days, stopping seldom and only when darkness forced us to at night. Our diligence had finally paid off; here we were now, sitting atop our mounts overlooking the valley. It was late afternoon, not quite dusk, and the border guards would soon join us, at least that was what Legolas had predicted just a few minutes ago. I knew not whether it was simply our proximity to the sanctuary, or if his Elven senses had picked up sounds or scents of others, but it mattered not. I trusted his word without question, so I would not be surprised when the Elves of Imladris would burst in on our serenity as we beheld the sight before us. It did not take long, and among their number was one of our very good friends—Elrohir. I was very glad to see him.

"Well met, friends!" Elrohir shouted as he drew his elegant steed to a halt. "You certainly were slow about arriving. What took you so long, Legolas? Did you become lost?" All the warriors with him shared a good laugh at Legolas' expense. I almost felt sorry for the prince.

"Tis a long story," Legolas replied with a grin, looking not at all embarrassed by the teasing. "One best related after a long wash and plenty of wine and song. Lead on, son of Elrond! I am tired of this journey!"

Without any further fanfare, we were led down into the valley, escorted by the son of the Lord of Imladris, and with the warriors of his border guard surrounding us. We forded the Bruinen at a very shallow place. This was a relief. While I was an avid horsewoman, I did not much care to swim a mount through deep water, although I could do it and had done so when necessary. It just was not something I would rate high on the list of activities I enjoyed.

I am sure my mouth remained in a constant state of slackness. It was a wonder I did not catch a few bugs within it, as I felt my jaw drop repeatedly at the wonder of my surroundings. The foliage was the perpetual green it had been since we had traveled next to the Bruinen, simply more so, and the sky also seem bluer here, within the boundaries of this sanctuary. It made me wonder about the power of the Elves, perhaps Elrond's power in particular. The sense of peace and tranquility that settled upon my soul was almost instantaneous with my arrival, and I could not decide if I longed to sleep where I may land or explore until I dropped. My senses were on overload, and I knew not which to do first.

As it turned out, it was not left up to me. I followed amidst the escort until we arrived at the foot of a massive stone staircase, very wide, but not extreme in height. It was the entrance to the House of Elrond. We dismounted and before I could protest, my Dori was led away, along with all my belongings. I wondered what the Elf that found Jonas would say when my cousin was discovered hanging from the horn of Dori's saddle. Oh well, no matter. I had given up trying to figure out what the Elves would decide about my character. What they would behold would be what they would get. Me and only me. It was all that I had, really, when it came right down to it. What more did anyone have?

It was all suddenly feeling very surreal. I was finally in Imladris. The House of Elrond. Where Arwen, and Elladan and Elrohir—and even Aragorn—had grown to adulthood. And it was a place that seemed as if out of some sort of dream world to me. As I ascended the staircase, I glanced all around me, noticing the walkways leading to and from the huge entrance. Many were covered walkways, arched stonework, ancient by the look of them, some of them vine-covered. There was sculpture everywhere! The artists were gifted beyond belief! The marble or whatever medium they had carved the likenesses in was so finely wrought, it literally brought tears to my eyes. I believed I could spend hundreds of years wandering this haven and never even see half of the wonders there were to be seen if one but looked long enough.

We reached the great wooden doors to the house too soon. I still had much I wished to see. I finally became aware that our party had dwindled to four. We had lost our escort at the foot of the stairs, and I had been so busy gaping at my surroundings I had not even noticed. I glanced at Elrohir and saw that he was practically laughing at me.

"What?" I asked crossly.

"Nothing," he answered defensively. "You seem as if you are enjoying yourself already, that is all."

"I am, thank you very much," I replied with a smile, feeling very foolish for seeming to be a person of such a simple mind.

"Where is your other half, Elrohir?" Gimli asked curiously. "You two are seldom seen separately, at least by me."

"Elladan is attending a difficult birth down in the stables," Elrohir replied. "The mare is older and dear to my brother, and he fears to lose her or her foal."

We made our way down a long hallway, which was massively wide, and which was adorned with more artwork, both on the walls—in the form of portraits and landscapes—and in the architecture itself—in the form of arches and sconces, and things such as those. I knew not where we were going, nor did I care. I would find out soon enough. For the moment, I was simply content on the journey, which took us to our unknown destination. _It was incredible_.

It was no wonder when I tripped up the first step of the staircase we had come to ascend. Elrohir caught me before I banged my knees on the second step, thanks be. _That would have hurt!_

"Shall I carry you, Maeren?" Elrohir asked, laughing again.

"No, Master Elf, that will not be necessary," I replied disdainfully. "I am quite capable on my own, thank you."

"It was but a simple offer," he said peacefully and we continued up the stairs.

As we gained the landing, Legolas asked, "Am I being housed in my usual room—third door on the left?"

"If that is your preference," Elrohir said, "then that shall be your room."

"It is my preference," Legolas replied, "and I am going there now, and I will join you at evening meal—not a second before." He got up into Elrohir's face and repeated what he had just stated, punctuating every word; "_not a second before_." The smile on his face was almost maniacal, as if he may come unglued should anyone—Elrohir in particular—decide to bother him before said meal. I wondered at this small display, but decided I would either find out at another time—or not. I scarcely cared. There were too many other things to see and think on, other than something that may bother that crazy Elf.

Legolas departed, practically running the last few steps down the hall to 'his' room. My curiosity was being stirred by the Elf that was for sure. Straight across the hall from Legolas' room was where Gimli was to be housed. After he was shown to his room, and promised to be collected for dinner in plenty of time, we continued down the hall, passing several doors, until we finally came to one which Elrohir opened and ushered me into.

"You may wonder why you are several doors away from Legolas and Gimli," Elrohir stated. "Father instructed us in minute detail exactly how he wished you to be looked after while you were living under his roof and in his care. You see, you are now in the family quarters of Imladris. My father's chambers are across the hall, I am next door to the left, and Elladan is next door to the right. Actually, this was once Arwen's room."

I was again gaping, my mouth hanging open so far my gullet was probably visible.

The room was stunning.

"_This_ is to be my room?" I asked in a voice that did not even sound like my own. The _bed _was larger than my entire bedroom had been in my home in Edoras as I had grown up. I was amazed.

Elrohir laughed. "Yes, Maeren, it is to be your room for as long as you are living here in Imladris. I hope you find it to your liking."

"My liking?" I echoed. "What is not to like?"

The bedroom was something out of a dream. I had never seen anything like it and probably never would again. The bed was huge—there was just no other word for it. The headboard was carved from what I guessed must be rosewood or cherry, given its wonderful red hue. It was massive, yet carved in a leafy design, and with delicate finesse, the result being magnificence in wood. The bed covers were done in a beautiful dusty rose, not lacy or frilly, simply rich and lambent. The floor—which was wood—teak or something like it—was polished where it could be seen peeking from beneath a fabulous rug, which ran almost to the wall in places—where a wall did exist.

It seemed as if one whole wall was not there - the room spilled out onto a veranda, which overlooked the majesty of Imladris. So awed was I by the sight of the valley stretched out before me, that I forgot about the missing wall for the time being, and simply gaped once again.

Touching my arm to gain my attention, Elrohir led me away from the veranda to the opposite side of the room once again. He opened a door and I beheld something I had never beheld before: a genuine bathing room connected to a bedroom. If I did not die from the shock of it all, I would be lucky indeed. Imagine, to come all this way from Minas Tirith, to secret myself away from prying eyes, only to die from the shock of beholding a genuine inside private bathing chamber!

I think Elrohir knew of my shock; his hold on my elbow suddenly tightened. I looked at him and smiled, my eyes suddenly brightening.

"Is this not amazing?" I asked with a gasp. I entered the room, looking about with wonder. There was tile everywhere. Tile! That was something rarely seen! Did I say rarely? I meant to say never seen—by me at least! As I looked around in awe, Elrohir explained all I would need to know about the workings of such a room. There was a free standing wash stand which held a porcelain basin, which he told me, held water changed throughout the day by a handmaiden, who would be in charge of my care throughout my stay. She would also be in charge of having my baths drawn, to my specified temperature, doing my laundry—even bathing me, if I so desired. There was also the chamber pot, for obvious functions, which Elrohir did not spell out, thanks be. And the bathtub! If you could call it by such a name! It did not stand upon the floor, as most bathtubs are apt to do. No, it was sunken—into the floor. It was made of the same tile as the floor and the surrounding walls, and it had a drain in its bottom. It was already full, but the water was tepid—I checked, of course! Elrohir explained something about hot springs and water pipes, but I was so awestruck, I confess I didn't listen closely. I understood him to say that water wasn't carried by Elven hands, it was piped in. I cared not. It was all too fantastic to be believed anyway, why should I find it hard to believe that water could not be piped in steaming hot?

"And that is the tour of your room," Elrohir finished.

"And quite a tour and quite a room it is!" I replied.

Elrohir took my hands in his and looked into my eyes, searching for I know not what.

"You are looking tired," he observed. "I will send in Nivia, who will serve as your handmaiden, and she can help you to freshen up for evening meal, which should be soon, I believe." He bent forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "It is good to see you again. But you must tell me the reason for your delay. I sense there is a story, and I would have it from you, especially if it is at Legolas' expense."

"Oh no, Elrohir," I said. "I have just recently come to some sort of an understanding with Legolas. We are at a friendly truce in our relationship, and I will not jeopardize that just so you may tease him. Count me out of this little prank!"

He heaved a big, exasperated sigh.

"Well you certainly aren't any fun!" he said petulantly. "Oh well, it matters not, I will find out another way. Gimli will tell. He has no such qualms about hanging Legolas out to dry."

"Legolas will tell you himself," I declared. "Why must you make him angry by teasing him?"

"What fun is there in not making him squirm?" Elrohir asked, as if I had gone insane. "What happened that raised his esteem in your eyes?"

"That I can tell you," I replied quickly. "I was attacked and almost devoured by a hungry wolf three nights ago, and Legolas is the only reason I am alive to tell the tale!"

Elrohir's face took on a look of concern as his eyes scanned me quickly again.

"Were you hurt?" he asked. "Why did you not say something about this before?"

"Calm down, Elrohir," I soothed, "I was not hurt—only scared half to death! Legolas killed the wolf and I was saved from the attack. I came to no harm at all. Gimli and Legolas have been working diligently keeping me safe since then; believe me, they have."

"Thank Eru you're safe and well," he declared. "My brother would have been fit to be tied had harm befallen you. The rest of us would not have taken the news of your demise well either, to tell you truthfully."

I laughed thinking of Aragorn all tied up in knots. I would actually like to see the king tied up and unable to move a finger. That would be a sight I would welcome, truth be known.

"Let me find Nivia then," he said again. "She should be here shortly. I will be back to collect you later. Again, it is good to have you at home." He smiled at me once more, gave a quick bow of his head, and left me to gawk at the view of the valley again.

_Imagine. An inside private bathing chamber!_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

I waited not long for Nivia to appear, just as Elrohir had promised. She was such a beautiful Elf! But then, I suppose, there was no such thing as an unbeautiful one, simply because one did not exist. _What a shame for plain, old me_.

She was also as kind as she was beautiful. We spent a small amount of time chatting, getting to know one another on a casual basis. She explained a few things about the customs of the house, and how I was expected to dress for the different occasions throughout the day in Imladris. She opened the huge wardrobe that stood at attention beside the bathing room door, and I found myself gaping again.

"Here we have the beginnings of your attire, Maeren," Nivia explained. "As soon as we received word of your impending arrival, we immediately began work on a wardrobe for you. I am sorry we knew not your favorite colors or fabrics, so if we made any large blunders, we can set them right as soon as we may. Lady Arwen sent your approximate size, so we began from there. Shall we get you into the bathtub and then try something on you for size?"

I am sure I looked as a child might when presented a surprise unexpectedly. Nivia clapped her hands in delight at my reaction.

"Of course!" I replied to her. "Lead the way to the bathing room. I am ready to shuck off these leggings for good! Burn them! Shred them! I care not to see them again! Bring on anything with no waistline! I will love you forever!"

Nivia laughed delightedly again and I joined her. We retired to the bathing room, and after much splashing on my part, so delighted was I to be in warm water with no males to be watching me, that I was happier than I had been in a very long while! I washed and I rinsed and I washed again. Then I rinsed twice more. There was no one to tell me I could not do it, and no one to tell me how impractical it was either. If I was not careful, I could become terribly spoiled in an environment such as this!

As soon as I was finished bathing and splashing, I rose from the tub, and Nivia enveloped me in a huge fluffy towel the likes of which I certainly had never used before. It was so luxurious, I wanted not to leave the comfort of it at all. Forget getting dressed and forget eating supper. I was happy now, cocooned in a fluffy towel, warm and cozy from the bath. Just put me to bed and I was set for the night. However, Nivia would have none of it; she said I was expected downstairs in the dining hall, and no excuse would be good enough for me to miss dining tonight. I whined as I asked her if it would be formal or a long and drawn-out affair, and she assured me it would not be. It was only the family and of course Erestor and Glorfindel and the other two guests along with me. Oh joy. I could hardly wait. For this I had to give up my warm, cozy nest of a towel. _Woe is me._

Nivia sat me on a bench at a dressing table before a mirror, and placed a comb in my hand, as she busied herself gathering clothing for me to put on, I suppose. I began pulling the comb through my hair, which was not the horrible trial it had been on our journey, thanks be, due to the wonderful Elven soaps they used for just the purpose of washing one's hair. I was amazed at the ease with which my comb ran through my thick wet hair, but I really had not the time to be all that taken with the wonderful soap. My hair needed drying, and it needed it quickly. It was fast becoming time to be down at the table, and as far as I knew, there was no Elven magic for drying anyone's hair.

I soon had the comb gliding though my hair without any problem areas, and Nivia was ready to help me dress. I ordinarily would have balked at such a thing, but these were Elven dresses, and I certainly knew not if there was a special way in which they were tied or fastened. As soon as I was accustomed to the mode of their dress, I would politely tell Nivia I would not need aid in dressing myself. She helped me into undergarments, and then into a wonderful billowy dress of the palest of pinks. It truly wasn't 'me', really. I had never owned—nor even wished to own—a dress of this type, and could not imagine wearing such a thing on a daily basis. I wondered if I would ever get accustomed to such a thing. I had but glanced into the wardrobe, and it was full of like garments. I suppose one had to take the bad along with the good that came one's way. I could put up with a few filmy dresses—after all, their comfort was divine—for five minutes in that wonderful tub!

There were even new shoes to wear. Well, not shoes, really. They were a type of boot, I suppose. They were clever devices, to be sure. Since they knew not my shoe size, the Elves had devised a 'wrap-around' type of boot. Of course, it had to be worn sparingly outdoors. There really was no sole to be spoken of, but it covered my stockinged foot and for that I was very grateful.

When Nivia was finished with me—and I did not let her have her full way, I must say—I looked not at all like myself—at least to me, I did not. She had insisted on leaving my hair down, but braided, of all things; and pulled and twisted, and knotted very intricately. How she accomplished it so quickly is beyond me, except perhaps by virtue of living for thousands of years and having done it perhaps a million or so times. I almost refused to leave the room. I am not one to put on airs of any kind. However, Nivia kept insisting that this was the custom, and if I did not wish to insult the Elves of the household, I would not change a thing. What could I do then, but go as I was? I wanted not to insult anyone, even if it was almost insulting to myself.

I took a deep breath and frowned at her then. She frowned back at me, but not a frown of anger. It was more a frown of deep hurt, as if her feelings had been trampled by my careless disregard for her efforts. I felt badly about my behavior then. It seems as if it took no time at all for all of the excesses of living to have gone to my head! Here I was, acting as a spoiled brat—and in someone else's home! _How rude of me!_

"I am sorry, Nivia," I said with genuine regret. "Please excuse my rudeness. I am simply travel weary, that is all. Do forgive me if I seem ungrateful. You have done a beautiful job with me. It is simply that I am unused to seeing myself in this way. It is totally unlike my usual style, and it makes me extremely uneasy. You do understand, do you not?"

Nivia brightened almost instantly, and said, "I do understand, and I can be somewhat overwhelming myself, at times. But I do have my instructions, and it would not go well for me were it to seem that I had not followed them, so I do appreciate your cooperation, Maeren."

"And who, may I ask," I queried, not being able to help the bristling sound that was creeping into my voice, "gives you your orders when they pertain to me, Nivia?"

"The same Elf who controls all household functions," Nivia said brightly. "Erestor does."

_Erestor, hmm? _I wonder what sort of an Elf this Erestor was going to turn out to be?

Nivia certainly was a wonderful Elf. Beautiful, kind and generous. She reminded me a great deal of Arwen, and that caused me to wonder if all Elves were of somewhat like temperament, but then thoughts of Legolas invaded my mind. I knew they were not all as wonderful as Arwen and Nivia and Elrohir and Elladan. Chances were that I would come up against a few Elves that were not to my liking. Legolas could not be the only one of his kind I would take an instant dislike to. What were the odds of that never happening again?

Elrohir came to collect me at my door, just moments after Nivia had finished with me. I still was unsure about showing my face—especially to the ones who I knew would tease me so much—Legolas and Elrohir, himself. However, here I was already faced with half of my worry and he was not laughing. Surprise showed clearly in his expression, although I was not sure if it was surprise that I could be transformed in such a way, or that I would allow such a thing.

"Are you ready to go down to the dining hall?" he asked as he offered me his arm.

"As ready as I am ever apt to be," I replied with skepticism. I took his arm and bid Nivia farewell, closing the door as I left the room. I felt ridiculous, and very much out of place the way I was garbed and the manner in which my hair was styled. I wished to simply go back to my room and get into the bed and sleep for perhaps a week. That would feel very nice. Maybe by that time, this Erestor character may have forgotten about me and would allow me to dress and have my hair the way I would, and leave Nivia alone about it. I thought about what had just crossed my mind, and I began to feel anger at this Elf I had not even met yet.

_Perhaps this Erestor would allow me to dress and have my hair the way I would?_

This attitude would never do. No indeed.

We made our way down the stairs and Elrohir guided me onward until we got to a dining hall which was not inordinately huge, to my great relief. When Elrohir kept calling it a hall, I kept envisioning the hall at Meduseld, which I seldom saw, and in which I was never entertained. It was quite a relief when he led me into what was a relatively cozy dining room—even smaller than that in which I was fed when I was entertained by the King and Queen of Gondor.

Just inside the door, I met the Elf who was fated to perhaps become the bane of my existence here in Imladris during the duration of my stay—Erestor.

I knew in an instant that I had met my first unbeautiful Elf. I suppose one could not call him ugly in the strict sense of the word. He was fair, there was no mistake about that. Like all his Elven kinsmen, his skin was as alabaster, his hair shone black like a raven's feathers in the sun. His movements were fluid and graceful, and his bone structure was flawless. But his eyes were cold and his mouth lacked lips. Where lips should have been, there was simply a line. A straight line. A mouth caught in a perpetual non-smile. Neither frowning nor smiling—simply parallel to the ground.

"Erestor," Elrohir said gallantly, "May I introduce to you Lady Maeren, daughter of Maedren of Rohan? Maeren, Erestor, chief advisor to my father."

"My pleasure," I said pleasantly enough.

"To be sure," he replied in like manner.

Legolas and Gimli were already in the room, and by the looks of things, had begun celebrating quite a bit earlier. I was not sure who had imbibed the most, truth be known. They both seemed a bit unsteady of foot, if you can believe such a thing, especially of Legolas. I was very surprised when instead of riots of laughter from the Elf, I received a low appreciative whistle and a bow from the waist.

"I thought perhaps there was a stunning female beneath that tough exterior you usually present, Maeren," Legolas said quietly. It was very unsettling the way he was looking at me. I liked it not at all, and stunning had never been a word I would use in a sentence describing myself.

Gimli frowned at the Elf, shook his head as if trying to clear it of something he disbelieved and then smiled.

"You look lovely, lass," Gimli said, kindly as ever. It was now very apparent who had imbibed the most liquor—and it was not Gimli.

"Thank you, kind sirs," I replied to them both. "I see you have both found time to relax."

"Ah yes," Legolas agreed, "Imladris and relaxation are one and the same."

"Hear, hear!" Gimli cheered quietly, and lifted his glass.

Erestor ushered us all to the table, motioning to Elrohir where to seat me. He then assigned seating to Legolas and Gimli, then seated himself at the head of the table. I supposed that when Elrond was in residence, that would be his station. I hoped it would not take the Elf lord long to reach home. I somehow had a feeling this Erestor and I would not quite be seeing eye to eye on a good number of things, and Elrond's presence would certainly put a leash on Erestor, I would imagine. He seemed much too eager in his position, if anyone cared for my opinion.

There were two empty places at the table. One, I imagined, must be for Elladan. The mare must still be laboring to deliver the foal._ I wondered when the process had begun_. The other place must be for the Elf Nivia had called Glorfindel, the one I had yet to meet. I could only pray to the Valar that he could be just a bit less irksome that Erestor seemed.

Just as the first course was served, a tall, blond Elf entered the room. He bowed, excused himself for his tardiness, and sat in the vacant chair at the end of the table opposite Erestor.

"Ah," Erestor said, "I see you made it after all. And Elladan? Is he coming as well?"

"No," the Elf answered. "The foal is almost here, but I doubt Elladan is going to make in time to dine with us."

"Oh, forgive me," Erestor said haughtily. "Allow me to introduce to you _Lady_ Maeren, Estel's mistress—"

While I had not at first thought that Erestor could not be deemed stupid, and one could not say he lacked wit, I suppose common sense was what escaped him, in my most humble of opinions, for what he'd just said about me.

Unfortunately, I had been in the process of drinking a sip of wine, and practically choked on it. _Thanks be I did not spew it all over Legolas, for he was sitting opposite me!_

"Excuse me!" I shouted as I stood. "What did you say?"

Elrohir stood beside me, taking my arm gently, trying to calm me down I am sure. It was not working.

Erestor stammered something, but I gave him no chance to utter the stupid remark again.

"I will have you know, you ridiculous Elf, that I am no such thing!" I exclaimed.

Erestor had apparently regained the use of his voice. He was able to say something before I could continue.

"I simply assumed that since you are with child, and it _is_ his—" He may have regained his voice, but he was still lacking common sense.

"Well you know what they say about people who assume—it makes an ass out of you for presuming such a thing, and one out of me as a result of that presumption!" I was livid. Never mind the_ lady_ slur I had listened to yet again. This was the absolute worst thing anyone had yet to say of me, I do believe.

It took me a moment to realize that the tall, blond Elf who had been the cause of the uproar in the first place, had made his way to my side and had taken my hand.

"Forgive Erestor, Lady Maeren," he said as he placed his lips to the back of my hand, "his obtuseness is only outdone by his boorishness. Glorfindel, at your service."

"Tis my pleasure, Glorfindel," I answered quietly. Even though I'd had every right to be angry over Erestor's stupid remarks, I was ashamed by my reaction. Glorfindel saw me seated once again and our meal resumed, with me throwing murderous glances Erestor's way for the rest of the evening.

_If looks could kill, he would be one dead Elf._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

Much later that night, as I lay in my bed asleep, I dreamed a sweet dream. I was in Imladris in a beautiful bedroom asleep in a beautiful bed, with the full moon's light streaming into the room through a place where there should have been a wall. There was the warmest of breezes, so light and caressing, just enough to be cool, not too much to be chilling. I had on a real nightdress, and the bed had real sheets. I was not in a bedroll upon the hard ground. There was no open fire with the smoke to get in my eyes or to smell up my clothes or my hair.

The night was quiet except for the vague background of Elven singing. I knew not what their words were, but their song was comforting just the same. It was a strange dream, dreaming about dreaming, but it wasn't unpleasant, so I simply kept sleeping.

Then from seemingly nowhere, Elladan was kneeling beside my bed. I was lying on my side, so I could look at his face with no trouble at all. He smiled at me.

"Hello, Mae," he said as he smiled, "I am sorry I wasn't here to greet you earlier."

"How is the mare?" I asked. "How is the foal?"

"They are both doing famously, thank Iluvatar," he replied. "I have had the mare for a very long time. I was not yet ready to part with her. I should never have bred her again."

"As long as it has turned out all right," I said.

"Go back to sleep," Elladan whispered. "I simply wanted to see you before I slept. Good night, Maeren."

I closed my eyes and opened them again. "Good night, Elladan," I replied.

But he'd already gone, and I was awake and no longer dreaming.

_Wasn't I? _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_


	29. Fits and Fights

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Nivia and I were going to have to come to some sort of an understanding—and soon. I admired her ability to braid hair—truly I did—but I did not wish for my hair to be braided every day. Not even once a week. But she was decidedly stubborn on the issue, and I did not want to hurt her feelings again. Especially not on her second day as my personal handmaiden. I thought about seeking out Elladan or Elrohir, and having one of them speak with her, but decided against that. I was a grown woman, after all, and completely capable of making my wishes clear without either browbeating anyone in the process or cowering in fear. I need not be intimidated simply because my handmaiden was an Elf—and my elder by perhaps twelve hundred years or so, if I even came close in my guessing. As I sat here and endured her taking last night's braids out of my hair, I thought about the best way to approach her in having my hair done the way I would want it from now on. I decided the direct approach was always the best one.

"Nivia," I said brightly, "will you allow me to put my hair up today, to show you the way I prefer to wear my hair on an everyday basis from now on?" _That was direct and plain spoken, was it not?_

Her fingers paused in their work for a moment before they resumed their task. I could tell she was thinking of a way to answer my request that would include braids.

"Maeren," she said sweetly, "did you not like the way I styled your hair at all last evening?"

"Of course I did, Nivia," I said, "for more formal occasions. But for day-to-day living—it just is not practical for me. I am used to a few quick twists and tucking some pins into my hair, and I am ready to be about my day. I have not time to be sitting still for you to be braiding my hair."

"And what will be so pressing for you to be doing?" Nivia asked me pointedly.

That statement hit me between the eyes. She had quite a point. What would I have to be doing _at_ _all_, pressing or no? And then I remembered—all the treasures of artwork and beauty that graced the grounds. Even if no gainful employment was found for me here in Imladris, I certainly would not remain idle. I had perhaps leagues of things to explore. I would have long since delivered the baby before I had seen it all.

"Well," I stammered, "I know not at the present, but I am sure something will come up to employ my time. But is it not enough that I would simply like to at least have a say in how I wear my hair?"

I rose from the seat in front of the dressing table and walked a short distance away. I did not want to complain; it seemed the height of rudeness when one looked at the excess I had been given here in Imladris. However, since I had disclosed my condition to Aragorn, my life had slowly been taken away from me bit by bit—and it was not a pleasant sensation at all. I turned back to Nivia, so she could see exactly how much I was meaning what I was about to tell her. I smoothed out the front of the Elven gown Nivia insisted I put on this morning—a different one from last night, though it did not seem quite so dressy as that one had—and prepared what I wished to say to the Elf, so as not to hurt her feelings.

"Nivia," I said quietly, "I know not how much you have been told of my situation. You obviously know I am with child. Do you know who is the father?"

She smiled sweetly and replied, "The baby is Estel's, though how it was accomplished with the love between he and Arwen, I cannot even begin to imagine—" She then quickly added, "However, it is definitely none of my business, I think it is a wonderful thing!"

I smiled at her cheerfulness. Elves. They can be so unpredictable. One calls you a mistress, another thinks the child of your tryst is a blessing.

"Yes, the baby is Aragorn's," I acknowledged. "And I will not regale you with the story of how it was accomplished. The point I am trying to make is that ever since I told Aragorn I was going to have his child, my life has not been my own. I am not saying I am not partially responsible for the turn my life has taken, because that would not be true, but Aragorn has exerted control over so many things in my life—small things they may seem to most people—but when added up, they seem overwhelming to me. So when something so trivial as the way I dress or wear my hair is taken from me—well, you do see how that makes me feel, do you not?"

Nivia smiled a genuine smile at me then and unexpectedly enveloped me into an embrace. She released me quickly and held me at arm's length.

"Of course I understand," Nivia said kindly. "I completely understand now. You will not hear another word about it from me, and Erestor can go to Mandos if he dares say a word. If there is anything else you wish done your way for that reason, unless it would be horribly improper by Elven standards—which I can tell you would never happen—you have but to let me know, and it will be done your way. I am sorry for pushing at you, Maeren. It was heartless of me."

"You are incapable of being heartless, Nivia," I said with tears in my eyes. "Thank you for understanding. I knew that you would, if I could but find the words to explain it correctly."

"Eloquent you are," she said, laughing. I was soon to find that laughter was often on the lips of all the Elves of Imladris—save perhaps, those of Erestor. It seemed his lips knew not how to smile, much less laugh.

She continued with her ministrations until my hair was completely undone, and the result was unusual indeed! My hair hung in many small waves, all the way down my back! I had never seen it in such a condition. Nivia took up a brush that had been on the dressing table, brushing it through my thick hair, and in no time at all, it was shining. It still undulated and looked quite a bit different from its usual way. She handed me the brush then, and I smiled at her reflection in the mirror, glad I had made my wishes known to her, and she had turned out to be as understanding as I had hoped.

"Oh dear," I said under my breath, "what did I do with my hairpins?" I began to search across the tabletop for the elusive pins, and then I remembered, I had taken them out when I was in the bath yesterday evening. I started to rise, but Nivia put her hands on my shoulders holding me down.

"What do you seek?" she asked. "I will fetch it for you."

"My hairpins," I answered. "I undid my hair whilst in the bath last night and left them on the side of the tub."

Nivia left to retrieve the pins, and she came back moments later, the pins in hand and a scowl on her face.

"I must find you new ones," she said, aghast at all the rust and bends in the ones I had been using. She opened the top drawer in the dressing table. "Ah, there they are," she exclaimed quietly. She grabbed up a handful and deposited them on the dressing table surface. "Now, you may proceed."

As I had told her, a couple of twists and a few well-placed pins, and I was ready to go for the day. _And she thought she was deft with her hands and the braids!_ She raised her eyebrows and smiled, congratulating me on a job well done—for a mortal. I laughed and was tempted to slap the Elven wench, but I can take a jest with the best of them, as long as she wouldn't mind when I retaliated at the proper time.

"I believe morning meal should be served very soon," she said.

"I think I recall how to get there from here," I said, mapping out the direction in my mind.

"Never mind," she said, "I will accompany you down. I have business in the kitchen anyway. Shall we?" She held open the door, and I walked out with her, she closing the door behind us.

We descended the stairs, and as we neared the dining hall once again, she touched my shoulder and pointed the room out to me. I nodded and thanked her. As I entered, it seemed I was just the least bit tardy. Everyone else was already there. Mine was the only empty seat. I almost decided I was not that hungry and left before I was seen by the others, but luck wasn't with me. Who should have spied me but Erestor? _What a wonderful Elf, was he not?_

"_Lady_ Maeren, do come in and join us," he said with a sneer.

"If you value your teeth, Erestor," I heard Legolas say, "I'd not use that sort of emphasis on the word _lady_, when addressing her." I could not believe it, but it was apparent that Legolas had already been into the breakfast wine. There was no doubt about it.

I know I heard Gimli snort, though he tried to hide it with a cough. Glorfindel tried not to hide it at all—he laughed right out loud, as did Elladan and Elrohir. Erestor? He scowled. Eru, I wanted to laugh, but I decided to try not to. After all, being labeled a _lady_ and a mistress by this stupid Elf made me wish to prove my dignity, if nothing else.

Every Elf gentleman—and Dwarf gentleman as well, I must include—stood at my entrance, and sat not until I was seated myself. My, but I could get used to this royal treatment; it certainly made one feel special. I was seated this morning between the sons of Elrond, but otherwise, the seating arrangements were the same as last evening. As soon as greetings were exchanged all around, and everyone inquired as to everyone's adequate sleep for the night, we got down to the business of eating. I was famished. The nausea assailing me during most of my condition so far, had finally played itself out. Oh, I would not be surprised if it reared its ugly head every now and then—particularly over odors and sights—but I believed that the worst of it had finally come and gone. I hoped.

"So, Elladan," Legolas said, "what flavor of a foal did your mare have?"

"Flavor, Legolas?" Elladan asked, confused.

"Sex. Male? Female? Boy? Girl? Either? Or?" He would have continued but Elladan interrupted his prattle.

"The mare delivered a filly, Legolas," Elladan said. Turning to his twin, he said, "Elrohir, I believe it is time to lock up the wine cellar. He has had quite enough, do you not think so?"

"I do think so, Brother," Elrohir replied, "but you know how useless our attempts are. He only figures out how to break into it again. Perhaps it would be more useful to simply tie him up instead. I do wonder though; why does he only do this sort of thing here in Imladris?"

"Legolas, why do you only pull this stunt here?" Elladan asked. "Why do you not go crazy with drink in your father's realm? Or why did it not occur to you to do so while you were in Gondor? You never get this way except when you are here. Why?"

"In my father's realm," Legolas said, as he dunked his sweet roll into his wine goblet, "I am forever on duty. There is never a moment's rest. I am always called upon for some reason or other. The same goes for when I am traveling to other parts of Arda. However, when I come here to Imladris, it is almost always for no particular reason. Except for the last time when your father happened to hold council just as I happened to pay a call. Yet I did manage to drink my fair share of your fine Elven wine before our departure, I seem to recollect."

The twins looked at each other.

"You had to ask," Gimli stated, then laughed, and I laughed too.

We heard no further comments from the tipsy side of the table, but Glorfindel was interested to know what the twins had planned for their guests for the day.

"We made no plans for anyone," Elrohir exclaimed. "These people have been on horseback for almost a month, and as far as I know, want only for rest and relaxation."

"I will drink to that," Legolas said, as he lifted his glass.

"You will drink to anything, you crazy Elf!" Gimli said as he laughed. "You always seemed to be such a proper Elf, too. Looks can be so deceiving!"

Everyone at the table had a good laugh at that.

"I suppose that settles it," Elladan said. "Unless someone has a special request, we entertain wherever anyone wishes today. They can sleep in their beds, splash in their baths"—he looked pointedly at me—"walk the grounds—absolutely anything their hearts desire." I narrowed my eyes at the Elf. _How did he know I had enjoyed my bath so much? Was Nivia a spy? I was determined to find out._

Our breakfast was over, and everyone went wherever their hearts desired to take them. My heart desired to take me right back up those stairs, and hopefully find an Elf woman named Nivia, and ask the girl if she had been making reports to one or both of the twins concerning me. I was trying not to be angry just yet. Yet if Elladan had been in the stables yesterday eve, there was no way he would know that I had taken extreme delight in my bath—unless someone had told him about it. If she had, she was going to rue the day. And I was no longer going to require the services of a handmaiden—no matter what Elven custom demanded.

I opened the door to my room, entered and shut it quietly, even though it really felt as if it needed a good slamming.

"Nivia—" I called sweetly. "Nivia, are you here?"

There was no answer. _Drat. She must still be in the kitchen. I would just have to accost her when she returned._

I wandered out onto the veranda, trying to calm down. After all, what was the huge crisis? I'm sure it was a funny story. The whale of a Human woman flopping about in the bathtub like she'd never seen water before. I could not believe that I could feel tears forming in my eyes. This was such a stupid thing to be weeping about. How absurd could I be?

I decided I must be tired from the journey still, and it would be some time before I had rested all I needed to rest, so I lay myself upon the bed that Nivia had already made and gave in to my desire to weep. I felt so silly crying over nothing, but what choice does a woman who is with child have sometimes? The urge hits her and she weeps—just as I had told Legolas the other night. That was all that was happening to me now. Just a simple weeping fit. Over nothing.

It wasn't like I was fast friends with Nivia. I had only met her last evening. How could someone you hardly know betray you? It simply wasn't possible. I would have to be careful what I told her from now on, that was all. No more taking her into my confidence. Who knew what she may tell next, if I told her anything of any import at all.

There was a soft knock on the door, which I felt not like answering, but it mattered not, for whoever it was entered anyway.

I wanted to laugh. So much for thinking my life would be my own once I reached Imladris. It seems as if that aspect of my world was only getting worse. I buried my face further into the coverlet upon the bed and tried not to allow my sobs to escape into the air. Whoever it was certainly was persistent - now they were sitting beside me—on the bed—beside me.

"Maeren, what is wrong?" Nivia asked with her sickly sweet and concerned voice.

I did not answer her. I wanted not to talk to her or to anyone else right now.

"Should I go fetch a healer?" she asked, her concern growing.

As much as I did not wish to speak to her, I did not want anyone else to come into my room either.

"No!" I said. "Leave me be; go away! Do not come back. I need not your help anymore."

I was not looking at her, so I know not the expression on her face, but she sounded very hurt when next she spoke. I cared not at all, truth be known.

"What has happened, that you would say such things to me, Maeren?" she asked, clearly offended by my tone and my words.

I wished she had left me alone when I had asked her to. Now my hurt was turning to anger again. I was going to lash out at her and I wanted not to. I could be very mean when I got this way, and I still did not have the facts, even though the evidence clearly pointed to her guilt. I sat up and wiped my face with the backs of my hands. I willed myself to be fair. _I knew not the facts_.

"Nivia," I said with a hiccup, "have Elladan and Elrohir told you to report to them things concerning me?"

She had the decency to look down at her hands in her lap. That told me what I needed to know, before she even said a word.

"I thought as much," I said dryly, though my tears began anew.

"I am sorry, Maeren," Nivia said guiltily, "but before you told me what you did this morning, about your life not belonging to you any more, yes, I was going to abide by Elladan's wishes, that I tell him of you. I did tell him of you last night, after you were asleep, and he had arrived back from the stables. I told him how happy you were—and it made him very happy to hear it. But this morning, when you explained about how many simple things had been taken out of your hands, I decided that I didn't care who Elladan was, he was not going to get reports from me concerning you any more. You have a right to your privacy. If he wants to know of you, he can ask you himself, can he not?"

"Oh, Nivia!" I said, and I threw my arms around the startled Elf. She laughed and I cried—what a pair we made!

"Do you feel better now?" she asked, as she pushed me gently away to look at me.

"Much better," I admitted. "You have no idea how much better."

"Well then," she said, "what would you like to be about doing this morning?"

"I would like very much," I said brightly, "to go to the Healing Halls if you would be so kind as to direct me there."

"It would be my pleasure, Maeren," Nivia said. "Why do you not go refresh your face, and I will straighten out your bed? Be sure to take your time, there is no rush at all."

"Nivia," I said, "I am sorry for lashing out at you so crossly. I hope you will forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," she said kindly. "I, too, have my moods," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "You have not seen them yet, but beware—I can be quite a handful at times, I am afraid. It has caused me a few harsh reprimands from Erestor, I can tell you."

"Well, Erestor needs his ears pinned back, if you ask me," I said facetiously. "What humor he has is all bad!"

Nivia laughed brightly and agreed with me, then shooed me toward the bathing room. It did not take me long, and we were soon on our way to the Healing Halls, where she left me in the care of the Elf in charge.

The Healing Halls were on the ground level, in the back of the house near the stables. I suppose situated in such a place, riders could bear the wounded there quickly, directly from the horses and litters or wains as they came from skirmishes or battles or whatever mishaps that happened to befall the wounded or hurt. The infirmary looked very much as most infirmaries do. There was the main hall with the rows of beds down several aisles. Along the back wall were located private rooms for dignitaries, I presume; that is how most Houses of Healing are set up, unless there is more than one story—then the private rooms are usually aloft. On one of the side walls, there were located rooms where the supplies were stored—bandages, herb supplies, that sort of thing. On the other side wall, there were surgeries, where arrows were extracted, amputations performed or wounds stitched. It was an immaculate infirmary, but I expected no less, and the Elf in charge was the sweetest Elf I had met yet. His name was Haldan and his face was that of an angel. His hair was long and silvery white, but he looked younger than even Legolas did, and that was saying a lot.

"Lady Maeren," Haldan said, "I am not supposed to be telling you this, but I care not; Erestor has never been my favorite Elf, and I take his posturing with a grain of salt. He all but forbid you to step foot in here while Lord Elrond is out of residence, but I see not the harm it can do. As far as I am concerned, not only are you welcome here, you have full privileges as a healer—even while the Lord of Imladris is absent. I would welcome learning of your methods, and if you would be interested, I would delight in teaching you anything you would wish to know of Elvish medicine.

I was immensely surprised, not only by the invitation to practice the healing arts here in Imladris' Healing Halls, but by the venom that had just come forth from the sweet appearing lips of the child-faced healer when he spoke of Erestor! I had expected a beautiful Elven voice—which I was not disappointed in hearing—but to hear it snarl in a growl when it spoke the adviser's name was quite shocking. I tried to push my laughter down. Although it had been surprising, I found Haldan's choler toward Erestor very funny.

"Oh Haldan," I exclaimed, "it would be an honor to simply observe you at work. To be taught Elvish medicine would be a dream come true for me!"

"Then consider yourself living in a dream!" he said with a huge grin spreading over his cherubic features. "But not for today. Today is your first day in Imladris, and I insist that you rest. If it would not embarrass you, I would even wish to examine you—make sure you and your child are doing well after such a long and arduous journey. Would you permit me to do so? It would simply entail laying my hands upon your abdomen, feeling that the infant is hail through my Elven senses, listening for its heartbeat with my ear—that sort of thing. The only skin I shall see will be the skin on your torso. Will you allow me to examine you, Maeren?"

I did not even hesitate, I agreed immediately.

"Where do you wish to perform the examination?" I asked.

"Right this way," he directed. He led and I followed him to one of the private rooms along the back wall. We entered, and he closed the door. He instructed me to lay upon the bed, and as I removed my shoes, he pulled the covers down for me to lay beneath them. After I had, he covered me up, and then proceeded to explain exactly what he intended to do.

"I am going to uncover your abdomen only, and expose your skin—taking whatever garments you may have down or up—whichever way they must go," he said with a smile.

I laughed. I knew he was intending to make me do so, trying to put me at my ease. I had a feeling all this had been prearranged expressly per Lord Elrond's wishes, well in advance of my arrival. I truly had nothing to fear.

Before Haldan had a chance to pull the covers down, I pulled my dress up. I knew better when to stop than he did. Actually, I pulled the covers down, for the same reason. As soon as all that was exposed was my slightly mounded belly, Haldan placed his warm and tingling hands on it. It felt good, I had to admit. I watched his face, trying to see if I could read anything in his expression. I could not. He switched the position of his hands a couple of times, kneading my belly slightly, as I did when I myself examined women with child. After he was satisfied with that part of the examination, he smiled and winked at me, and removed his hands.

"Now I listen, all right?" he asked.

"Tell me if my child says anything fresh to you," I said wickedly.

He closed his eyes and placed one hand to his brow, as if massaging a raging headache with his long, Elven fingers. He said nothing, but the look he gave me spoke words.

"I know," I replied, "but I could not resist."

"Take my advice," he said, "next time—resist." My smile grew wide.

He knelt on the floor beside the bed, crossed his arms atop the mattress beside me, and lay his ear against my belly. His ear was _cold_. I flinched and he lifted up suddenly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked with a frown.

"Your ear," I said, "it's cold!"

"Oh, sorry," he said, "how odd—not much I can do about that. I'll be finished quickly."

He leaned over again, replacing his ear on my stomach, listening once more. His face was toward me, and after a only a few seconds, he wrinkled his nose at me and stood again, pulling the covers back over my body.

"Your child said nothing fresh," Haldan uttered, "but he is practicing your horrible jests." I laughed.

"All is very well, Maeren," he said, beaming. "I have assisted in two other Human births, so I know what I am feeling and listening for, have no fear. The child is healthy and happy. Quite playful, as well."

"I am very glad to hear it," I said. "Thank you for reassuring me."

I resettled my clothes back into approximately their proper positions as well as I could beneath the blanket, and then Haldan helped me to rise from the bed.

As I was replacing my shoes on my feet, the door to the room suddenly burst open and the angry face of Erestor was foremost through the entrance.

"I thought I would find you in here," he said dourly. "What is she doing in here, Haldan?"

"Why come right on in, and good day to you, Erestor! I was examining her, not that it is any of your business, " he said icily. "I was doing as per Lord Elrond's missive, which I received when he sent all of his instructions pertaining to Lady Maeren's stay here in Imladris."

"Such an examination could have been performed in her chambers, Haldan," Erestor replied pointedly. "I gave you specific instructions as to her restriction from the infirmary during Lord Elrond's absence. I, too, received missives from him you know."

"Of course you did, Erestor," Haldan mocked, "I simply doubt that her restriction from the infirmary during his absence was Lord Elrond's idea."

"Just what are you saying?" Erestor asked.

"Perhaps I should have a look in your ears, Erestor," Haldan said as he leaned toward the adviser. To emphasize his meaning he raised his voice a notch or two. "Can you not hear well?"

The Elves had been approaching each other as they had continued to quarrel, and I had been inching toward the door. As soon as they were standing nose to nose, I beat a hasty exit, practically running from the small examining room, and out of the Healing Halls altogether. The minute I gained the outside air, I stopped and leaned against the wall, breaking into peals of laughter. Had I thought it would not have brought every Elf in Rivendell out of hiding, I would have dropped and rolled on the ground in my glee at witnessing Haldan give Erestor as good as he was getting.

That sweet appearing Haldan—now _those _looks certainly were deceiving.

Unfortunately, my hilarity did not go unnoticed, and soon Elven heads were popping out from the doorways of the stables and even out of the trees. One of the heads belonged to Elladan. He had been in the stables checking on his mare and her new little filly. It wasn't long before he was walking toward me, evidently finished with his visit to the new mother and her baby.

"What is so funny so early in the morning, dear Maeren?" he asked with a huge grin.

"Tis a long story, and one I am not up to telling at the moment," I told him with a bit of frost in my voice, remembering he was not exactly my favorite Elf at the moment.

He was nothing if not perceptive, but he remained quiet and did not question my reserve.

"Have you a particular destination right now?" he asked

"Yes," I answered, "as a matter of fact I do. I have been given orders by Haldan to rest for the remainder of the day, so I am going back to my room and do exactly that. It galls me, to a certain extent, for I do so want to explore Imladris, but I would be the lowliest hypocrite were I to ignore a healer's orders. And besides, it isn't as if I do not have plenty of time in which to accomplish seeing all there is to see here. A day or so of rest for the good of my child is not too large of a sacrifice."

"You have been to see Haldan?" he asked, concern tainting his expression. "Is anything wrong?"

"Not really," I said, wanting to make him squirm. Mean of me, I know, but he deserved it, I felt.

"Not really?" he asked "Perhaps I should just ask Haldan directly."

"Perhaps you should," I said, just a bit too sharply. "You certainly have no qualms about having Nivia spy on me. Why should you care if the healer breaks the oaths he makes to keep the patients' ills to himself? Yet after having met Haldan, I have a feeling he will send you packing with no more information than you had when you entered the Healing Halls."

Elladan raised his eyebrows at this statement of mine.

"Nivia spying?" he asked as if amazed. "I had no idea her talents lay in the covert. I may have to interrogate her in regard to that."

"Do not play innocent with me, Elladan," I said with no warmth. "I know you told her to report my doings to you. She finally told me as much—when I forced her to."

"How else am I supposed to find out if you are well and happy, Maeren?" Elladan asked a bit perturbed himself. "You certainly aren't very forthcoming in regards to yourself, you know."

"Perhaps I would be, were you to simply ask me," I asserted.

"I suppose that is an alternative," he admitted sheepishly. "It didn't occurred to me."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. I looked him directly in the eyes, and grimaced, trying to figure this Elf out. Then I remembered that would probably render me senseless, so I desisted, and continued on our path toward the house once again.

"I suggest you try it next time, Elladan," I told him. "Nivia has promised she will tell you no tales from now on, so you will be receiving no reports from her again—about my _bath_ or any other thing concerning me. Do you understand?"

"I understand, my lady," he said quietly. "And I apologize. I did not realize it was that large of a problem to you, that is all."

"Well it is a very large problem to me," I said somberly. I stopped on our path again and turned to face him. "As you know, I have been a widow for a time now, and have been used to doing things for myself and in my own way. Ever since I was forced to include Aragorn in my life for obvious reasons, he has insinuated himself into a position of authority over me time and, again, and I like it not at all. There seems to be a conspiracy—all in the name of 'what is best for Maeren, or what is in the best interest of the child'—to run my life, from not allowing me any private time—at all—during the journey, to how I wear my hair here in Rivendell! So imagine my surprise this morning when I realized you knew I took great delight in my bath last evening—of _all_ things! It was humiliating when I realized that you, too, were attempting to hold onto my reins, so to speak."

I began walking once again, and by now we had almost reached the house. Elladan opened the door when we reached it, and allowed me entrance, then followed me in. We traversed the corridors, and I have to admit, I had to allow him to take the lead. From this point, I had lost my bearings and knew not my way. He escorted me back to my room, opening the door for me, and closing it after himself—inviting himself in without asking my leave. _He was certainly a hard nut to crack._

I turned to face him, unsure of whether I was still angry with him or not.

"Elladan," I asked shortly, "was there something else you needed from me?"

He closed the distance between us with languid steps, approaching near to me, but stopped just in front of me and did not touch me, thanks be. I had feared for a moment he was going to try to kiss me again. How I would have welcomed it, in a way. Whenever he was near, I could feel his electricity, but that alone was enough to scare me into wanting him far away from me. Sometimes I wished I had never set eyes on this Elf, and at others I thanked the Valar that I had even had the chance to glimpse him at all.

"No," he said quietly, "I need nothing from you, Maeren. I only wished to apologize to you again—a real heartfelt apology this time. I tend to be flippant, when I know I am wrong, but hate to admit it. Please forgive me for overstepping my bounds with you. I had no right to do so. I will try not to do it again, you have my word. I do not swear _not_ to do it, because I try not to tell falsehoods, and old habits die hard, so you may catch me inadvertently minding your business from time to time. All I can say is I swear I will try my best. You do have my word on that."

I smiled at him, and I wanted to hug him to me, but knew much better than to do that. I merely thanked him for his apology.

"That means the world to me, Elladan," I said truthfully. "Thank you for understanding."

"Now," he told me, "I will leave you to rest. Would you like lunch sent to you here, or will you come downstairs for it? It will be no trouble at all for it to be brought to you."

"That would be very nice," I replied. "I intend to get into bed and truly sleep as much as I can today. I find myself weepy and cross, and I am sick of myself. I detest inflicting myself on others when I am in this sort of state."

"You do exactly as you will," Elladan said. He began drawing all the drapes I had never noticed before. What I thought was merely tapestry on the walls was actually draperies! I was amazed, and naturally had to see what he was doing and how the drapes were hung. He showed me the drapes, and behind them were cleverly hung sheer curtains as well! Most shocking of all, was the fact that where I thought no wall existed, there was actually a series of doors! They were glass doors on a track of some kind, also cleverly hidden behind the drapes! You pulled the first one, and the others followed it along the track, like a mother duck and her ducklings! Elves! What would they not think of? So rain or shine, winter or spring, I could live in this room and be quite comfortable. There were walls exactly where there should be! _What a relief!_

When Elladan was finished drawing all the drapes it was quite dark in the room. I could not see my hand in front of my face.

"Elladan," I stammered. "I have a problem here."

"Which is, Maeren?" he asked.

"I cannot see anything," I replied, "and I know not where I am going. I am liable to bump my nose on a door or some such thing if I move an inch in either direction."

As I finished my statement, I heard flint strike stone, and a lamp flared to life, lighting the room somewhat.

"Thank you," I said with a grin.

"You're quite welcome," he replied. "Do you require any other help? Perhaps you need someone to help you into a nightdress? Would you require a bath before your nap? I would be glad to help you with either of these things. Really." That devilish grin was firmly in place on that handsome Elven face.

"No thank you, sir," I replied serenely, "I can get along just fine on my own. You have been quite enough help already. Thanks just the same."

He again approached me, but this time, he did touch me—he put his hands on my waist.

"Well," he said, he eyes alight, "if you are sure—"

"I am quite sure," I replied with a smile.

Eru, if he did not kiss me then! I tried not to respond, and I was successful—to an extent. I would not allow his tongue into my mouth. He drew back, his eyes mere slits, and he studied me for a minute, as a smile crept over his beautiful lips.

"Will you be coming down for evening meal?" he asked in his most seductive voice." Yes," I answered, in what I hoped was my most businesslike voice. I did not elaborate in my answer. I did not know how long I could keep my voice from slipping into one of seduction like his.

"I will see you later then," he said. He kissed me once more, but did not try to invade my mouth this time. He drew back from me again, and then left me to my own devices for the rest of the day.

_Dear Valar, was there even a point in trying to resist this beautiful Elf?_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

At least I did not feel quite as self conscious tonight as I had last night and that was something. Another new Elven dress, a different fabric—this one seemed to be a light satin type of material in the darkest of midnight blues. It was beautiful, if only I could do it justice. Nivia assured me that I did, but I certainly did not see it! It mattered not—I was not in a contest of beauty with anyone, and Eru help me, I certainly needed not to attract _any_ males, truth be known. It seemed as if my day in bed—indeed sleeping for much of it—had only had the opposite effect of my intention. I was sluggish and felt inert. I hoped that a good hearty meal would set my attention to rights. I had a feeling, for some reason, that I would need my wits about me tonight.

My sweet and helpful handmaiden had insisted once again that braids were simply the only way I could wear my hair this evening, and quite frankly, I had not the will or the strength to resist her whining. The same as last evening, it took her only about ten minutes to have my hair completely braided, and me looking not at all like myself. She finally deemed me ready and left to find an apt escort for me. She returned moments later with Elrohir to take me on his arm once again.

The meal was superb, the same fabulous sort of repast as last evening, and everyone, for the most part, seemed to be on his—or her—best behavior. I checked to see if Erestor's face was intact, and it was. It seemed he and Haldan had not come to blows after all. Neither of his eyes were blackened, nor was his nose out of joint—well, more so than it usually was, that is. I sincerely hoped Haldan was in a like state. _He had better be, or I would personally punch Erestor in the nose myself!_

Legolas, that stinker, was still in his cups, and showed no sign of slowing down in his consumption of Imladris' wine. If one did not know him, one would not have necessarily been able to tell he had been drinking too much, but his speech was just the slightest bit slurred, and uncharacteristically bold, and tended toward insulting frankness—and he cared not to whom he directed his comments. I would have thought that perhaps Glorfindel, being an Elf who commanded extreme respect, would have been exempt from Legolas' glibness, but he was not, to Glorfindel's immense amusement. I was very glad that Elrond was not in residence. Eru only knew what Legolas would have found to insult the Elf lord about—and I, for one, did not want to witness such a thing. I had seen the Elf lord angry and observing that once was definitely enough!

As soon as the meal was over, I excused myself rather quickly. Elladan and Elrohir were in some deep discussion with Glorfindel and Erestor about Eru knew what. It was a relief to me, really, that Elladan was occupied. I was free to go, and he would leave me be. I could go to bed, and he would have no chance to accost me any more this day—at least.

I went up the stairs and went to my room. As soon as the door was closed behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief as I leaned against it. Nivia was gone, just as she had been last night. I was glad. I liked her very well, but I was a person who needed time to myself, and this time now was very welcome. I changed out of the beautiful blue dress and into a nightdress, but I felt like sitting out on the veranda for a while, so I put on a light robe over of my gown. I replaced the fine stockings I had been wearing with the dress, with some woolen stockings that would pad my feet on the stones of the veranda. I would have comfort, but still not have to wear shoes. I was completely comfortable at last, so I made my way outside and sat myself down at the little round table that graced the stones of the porch.

The air was cool, but not chilly. Just right, I would say. The moon was just now peeking over the horizon, and it was almost full. It was a gorgeous summer night, and I breathed in great lung fulls of the sweet air of the valley. I was almost content. Just on the edge of my consciousness, I could feel Dustin hovering, and I missed him still.

There was a quiet knock on my door and my shoulders—as well as my spirits—fell.

"Who is it?" I called. I was clear across the room, and outside as well, but except for Gimli, all the other beings here in Imladris were Elves, and they were more than capable of hearing my call.

"Legolas," came the answer. Shocked, I was, to say the least.

"Come in," I answered, "the door is open."

Legolas came in, closing the door behind him, and walked silently across the room and out into the night air to join me on the veranda.

"May I?" he asked, indicating a chair, asking if he could sit with me.

"By all means," I replied.

"Would you like a cup of tea, or perhaps something else, Legolas?" I asked belatedly. "I am not quite the hostess I should be, I suspect."

"No, thank you," he replied. "But I don't believe I will have any more wine. I need to sober up. Gimli and I are off tomorrow to begin our travels over Arda, and I should be able to sit a horse, do you not agree?"

"I very much agree," I replied. "I will miss you, you know."

Legolas laughed. "Will you?" he asked skeptically.

"Of course I will," I said. "Why would you think I would not?"

He shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

I laughed then. "Seriously, Legolas, I do wonder something. Something that has been bothering me quite a lot since we've arrived here in Imladris." I searched his face, and he looked into my eyes, waiting for my question. "Why have you been drinking so much of the time? For some reason, it seems so out of character for you to be doing such a thing."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and laced his long, Elven fingers together before he glanced up at me.

"I am a very lonely Elf, Maeren," Legolas replied. "I notice it not so much until I come to Imladris. I suppose it is the quiet and solitude—the peace of the valley. You would think I would find it restful, but I only become restive. The wine somehow becomes a friend to me; loves me—and I definitely love it. It numbs me, and I like the way that it feels."

"There are so many other Elves about, Legolas," I said sincerely, "why do you not seek them out, instead of trying to find companionship in a bottle of wine?"

"Companionship I do not lack, Maeren," Legolas said. "But I suspect you understand that one can be lonely even in a crowd. Gimli understands this, yet he is otherwise occupied right now. 'Tis why I seek you tonight. You have no perceptions of me except of what is truly in me.

"Everyone knows—or knows of—'Legolas, son of Thranduil, member of the fellowship'. Well—they think they know, at least. Most people—even some who I would consider my friends—think my life is one in which I have been granted my every wish. They believe I am served whatever I want from platters of gold with spoons of silver. All that I have, all that I may have accomplished, must have been easier for me, for some reason, they think—only Eru knows why they would think that, for it certainly isn't true. I am flesh and blood just as everyone is; yet others believe I have not struggled to get where I am; that I have not worked to be proficient at the things I am good at. I suppose they believe I was endowed with gifts by some sort of magic, or by virtue of my being the son of a King, and that I had not to practice or study for hours and years and centuries on end, just as everyone else has had to. I know not where these fantasies come from.

"My father has struggled for centuries—millennia even—trying to keep the darkness from overtaking his realm. I have worked right alongside him, watching as the horrors of Dol Guldur bred and multiplied over the years. The fumes from the evil turned the forest black. Mirkwood it was renamed. Have you any idea how much it hurt my father when he got wind that his beautiful Greenwood had been given a new identity? _Mirkwood_. It disgusted him, and with good reason, although he could not dispute the new title the forest was gifted, for it had become an apt name. The trees now grow gnarled and so dense the sunlight no longer filters to the earth in many places, and the sun may as well not rise at all. The creatures that still dare to remain know not that it has.

"Yet he continued to struggle and fight against the forces of evil. Why did he do so? For personal gain? For some treasure or gold? That is the rumor—and that is all that it is. A stupid rumor. He has no riches or gold. He has struggled and fought for every inch of our land, and for every Elf of the realm for the love of the people. He is hard and he is stubborn and self-righteous at times—and I love him more than I love myself. If I could ever be half the Elf that he is, that would be an accomplishment, indeed.

"I am hoping to make the Woodland Realm one of the first stops on our journey. I am anxious to see my father and the people of our land—he must have many plans for rebuilding. His excitement will know no bounds! However, I will bring a Dwarf with me; the last time any Dwarves were in the kingdom, they found themselves in the dungeons, per my father's decree. It may be a somewhat sticky situation at first, but interesting, I will bet."

I had been sitting here watching Legolas' metamorphosis from a bereft, friendless Elf whose sorrow was very close to overflowing in tears, to one who was almost gleeful at the idea of watching one of his best friends go head to head with his father—and it seemed as if bloodshed may not be entirely out of the question.

"Legolas," I said with growing alarm, "Gimli will be in no danger, will he?"

He looked at me as he had before, when I was starting to get on his nerves.

"I must be starting to sober up—you are beginning to vex me," he said as he started to grin. "Worry not, my friend. I will allow not one wiry hair on any part of our dear friend's body to come to harm. You have my word as an Elf, and your friend. One of your very good friends."

He stood, and pulled me up from my chair.

"I will be leaving you now, and I want to thank you for listening to me ramble on and on. I know not why I did it, but it helped to vent it in some ways."

"Have you always done this," I asked, "drink so much wine here? Even when Elrond is in residence? Has he not taken you to task for speaking so frankly to everyone? Have you not trod on _his_ toes a time or two?"

"Who do you think gave me a master key, that I can 'somehow' keep breaking into the cellar?" he asked, that mischievous grin which mirrored Dustin's so well taking up residence upon his fair visage with ease. "You see, I had a conversation with Lord Elrond upon an occasion about the the locks on the cellar door, and he bestowed upon me the key. I had actually been breaking the locks, so he did it in self defense, really."

"Legolas," I said, "you are hopeless!" In all his wine-fed frankness, I was still not sure why he soaked himself in spirits when he was here, and nowhere else.

He smiled—dimples glowing in the moonlight—and embraced me. I did love my friend Legolas. He was truly special—and hopeless, as well!

"Sleep well, Maeren," Legolas said, as he stepped away, "and thank you for listening to a jaded, drunken Elf."

I laughed and walked him to the door of my room, opened it, and let him out, giving him a small wave as I watched him retreat down the hallway.

_The master key. Elrond, you fine fool. What a monster you created in the name of saving a few cheap locks._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	30. Pleasure and Pain

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Eru, I was going to miss him!

Gimli had become such a wonderful friend of mine. Faramir had been a rock for me when I had shared with him my secret of being with child, and I would always love him for that, but Gimli—Gimli was a friend to whom I had told my most heartfelt grief at one of my lowest moments. I would indeed love Gimli deeply for the rest of my entire life. And right now he was leaving me for a time, and I was entrusting him to my Elf friend, Legolas. What a character he had turned out to be! I would miss them both, if I would be truthful.

I was making friends here in Imladris, so I would not be completely bereft without my fast companions of the past few weeks. Nivia was quite nice, and I enjoyed Haldan immensely, if I could steer clear of Erestor's hawk-like eyes long enough to visit the Healing Halls. Of course there was Elladan and Elrohir, but they were likely to be about the business of running things in their father's absence. I would probably be blue for a few days, missing my constant friends of the past month, but I was generally not a person who dwelled for long on the morose. I would find things to occupy my time and be about the concern of exploring the vastness of the valley of Rivendell. Whether or not I would be allowed to do so on my own terms would be another thing, of course.

As sure as spring follows winter, I was weeping already. They had not even mounted Legolas' beautiful Elven horse yet, and tears were already decorating my cheeks. This had to be the one thing I detested the most about being with child, and it was definitely worse this time than it had been when I had carried Tristin.

Legolas came to wish me farewell. I wiped at my face with my hanky yet again and managed to not let the tears spill from my eyes in greeting to him as he approached.

"Well, Maeren," he said with a smile, "it seems this is goodbye for a time. Take care of yourself and the small one."

"I will, Legolas," I said, my voice strong despite my weeping. I was very proud of myself, I can say. "You be sure and take care of your passenger," I said with vehemence. "I know not what I would do if he came to harm." Unashamedly, I all but collapsed into the Elf's arms, overcome suddenly with the emotion of imagining anything happening to the sweet Dwarf who was my best friend.

Legolas patted my back, and I could feel his laughter through our embrace. Part of me wanted to kick him in the shins, but I refrained. He could not help it, he simply couldn't understand why I was so overwrought. What could possibly happen to the Dwarf? Gimli was going to be with him. To Legolas it was simple logic.

He pushed me gently away and looked at my face, scowling.

"What?" I asked as I dabbed at my eyes.

"Your eyes look as if they have drowned," he said, laughter still in his voice. "Quit this weeping, you are making me angry. I want not to be vexed with you when I ride away."

I did my best to pull myself together. Gimli joined us, and my efforts all flew away, as all my emotion came rushing back to flow from my eyes once again. He hugged me to him fiercely as I wept, and he also started patting me on the back as he comforted me.

"There now lass," he said gruffly into my ear, "weep no more. You will have me joining you, and the Elf will never let me live it down. You must cease this."

I straightened up and stood away from him slightly, again dabbing at my eyes.

"I am sorry, Gimli," I said, my voice growing stronger. "I will try to be brave. I will miss you, that is all."

"And I will miss you, my dear," he said, "but we will see each other again. We must make a rendezvous in Minas Tirith sometime after the child is born. When you make arrangements with Aragorn to see the child—let me know as well, so that I may see the babe—and the babe's sweet mother. Will you do this, lass?"

"I know not where I will meet with Aragorn to let him see his child," I admitted, "but when it is arranged, I will see to it that a messenger is sent to you, and you will be apprised of the time and the place. I promise you this. But where shall I send a message, Gimli?"

"Send it to Ithilien, or perhaps even Edoras—we will not be out of pocket for long, I am sure," Gimli said confidently. "That is if that cursed Fangorn Forest does not swallow us up, and we are never heard from again!"

"Gimli you are being ridiculous once more," Legolas commented while he crossed his arms. "Come, we must be on our way. The day is growing old while was stand here."

I gave Gimli one last hug, and he kissed my cheek. I did not weep again.

Legolas mounted his horse, pulling the beast forward to a step stool to boost Gimli up behind him. They gave a final wave as Legolas kicked his horse up to a canter, and they were on their way, out of my life for the time being. I was going to miss Gimli. Had anyone told me three weeks ago I would miss the Elf, I would have thought them crazy. Now, it was a certainty. I definitely would miss them both.

I desperately wanted to take my mind off the loss of my friends from my side, so I followed Haldan back to the Healing Halls when the crowd dispersed after seeing Legolas and Gimli off on their way. He seemed glad to see me, even though I could not manage much of a smile for the life of me. He understood my melancholy and did not push me. He set me to work at washing cups and glasses and sundry instruments used in the Healing Halls, which I gladly did.

It wasn't long until the twins found us amiably speaking with each other, as I washed and Haldan dried the various dishes. Some of the instruments used in surgery or stitching were first boiled and then placed in purifying solutions before they, too, were dried carefully and put where they belonged. There really weren't many things to put to rights, as the Elves stayed healthy as a rule. They did not take ill in the first place, and with the peace that came with the fall of Sauron, there weren't many skirmishes with Orcs, and the borders of Imladris were basically clear from their foul taint anyway. Only the occasional mishap or misstep would render someone hurt and in need of Haldan's attention. So it seemed as if we were merely washing specks of dust, in some instances, from otherwise immaculate utensils.

"What are you doing?" Elrohir asked, irate.

"What I always do, Elrohir," Haldan exclaimed, "I am tending to my business." He knew very well Elrohir had been speaking to me, he was just the sort of Elf who enjoyed a good argument, I was fast finding out.

"Maeren," Elladan echoed his brother, "why are you doing the dishes?"

"I wished for some work to do with my hands," I replied, "to take my mind away from missing my friends." I could not believe my eyes were beginning to tear up again. I blinked them fiercely, forbidding them to leak down my face. "The Healing Halls bring me comfort. They are where my heart dearly lies. Haldan has seen fit to grant me leave to shadow him, as long as I keep quiet and stay out of his way." _So I fibbed; I wanted not for Erestor to get wind that Haldan had given me full privileges in the Healing Halls. As long as Haldan played along, who was to know?_

"Even Haldan does not usually wash the utensils," Elrohir said. "The aides and assistants do that." Turning to the head healer, Elrohir continued, "Where is everyone else, Haldan?"

"I sent them on their way, to have a day off," he said in mock irritation. I had a hard time reconciling this Elf's voice and words with his sweet countenance. "They were simply underfoot, and as you can see, there is nary a soul here in want of attention, except for one melancholy woman in need of a bit of emotional shoring up, as it were. My directive for her malady is a pan of soapy water, a scrub brush and a few somewhat dirty cups, glasses, beakers and various and sundry other tools and utensils. So you—sons of Elrond—be about your day. We are doing just fine here. My patient is progressing brilliantly, thanks to me, and we do not need nor want your help. So good day to you, and thank you for your concern."

"Haldan," Elladan said with not quite clenched teeth, "one of these days, someone is going to hit you; and I am going to laugh."

"Well, laugh it up, Elf-boy," Haldan said, "It would not be the first time I was hit, nor the last, most likely; and as long as I get to say as I please, and I do not get too terribly disfigured in the process, it matters not to me! Now, good day!"

I could not help myself—I laughed at that. Haldan turned to me, and his eyebrows shot up and he laughed as well.

"See?" he said, turning back to Elladan, "I'm doing exactly as I set out to do! Now will you help me and go? Please?"

"We're going!" Elrohir exclaimed, as he grabbed Elladan by the arm. "We're going on a hunt—just for the day—with Glorfindel and a few of the others. We will see if we can bag a nice juicy deer, Haldan, just for you! How would that be?"

"I would love it, as you well know," he replied with a hungry gleam in his eye. "Perhaps two? I feel a spell of gluttony coming on!"

The twins laughed, and bid us goodbye. As they walked out the door, Elladan glanced back over his shoulder at me. The look he gave me was one I could not fathom. I had seen it before, just not on his face.

_No matter, no matter at all._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

After spending the morning with Haldan, he insisted that I spend the rest of the day out of doors in the gardens, either reclining on the lawns napping or reading, or simply in pondering my life or the world. I gladly did so, finding one beautiful garden very close to the grand staircase at the entrance of the house, where I had first beheld the vast edifice of Elrond's home. It was a somewhat hidden niche, as I tend to like my gardens, but this one so outshone the one in Minas Tirith, I was almost ashamed of myself for admiring it so much.

This garden was larger to begin with, and had a terrace, surrounded by grass and trees, with plants and flowers nestled between them. There were exotic flowers growing within the trees themselves—delicate, almost glowing flowers of several different colors and markings on the petals, fragrant with waxy blooms, the likes of which I had never seen before. They did not require soil of any kind, and their roots were ropey and seemed to entwine around the tree, as if taking succor from it. I made a mental note to inquire about the name of such a flower; perhaps Nivia would know what it was called.

I spent much time in the garden, looking at every single flower and plant, until the sun was lowered to such a degree that the place was cast in shadow, and I was hard pressed to see much of anything anymore. I made my way back to the house, and back into my room, where I found Nivia, and asked her to please draw a bath for me. She did so, and I soaked for a very long while, in water she had fragranced with some oil of some herb or flower of some type. It smelled reminiscent of some of the flowers I had seen today, which reminded me to ask her of their name.

Orchids—she called them Orchids. They were the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen.

After my bath, I dressed in my nightdress and robe. I had not the will or the energy to go downstairs to a meal. Nivia promised to bring me something to eat in a little while. I asked her not to bother, but I knew that was a useless exercise. They had all been instructed to see to my welfare, and I know that making sure that I ate was high on their list of priorities. I knew I would be seeing her at my door shortly, with a tray laden with much more than I could ever eat. I was schooling myself to behave. They all had my best interests at heart. I had to cease thinking of it in terms of them attempting to take control of my life. It would be much healthier for me if I thought about it as their need to feel as if they were helping me. If the situation were reversed, and I was wishing to help someone in my condition, I would want to see to their welfare, would I not? That was all they were trying to do for me. I was being selfish when I denied them this pleasure.

As expected, Nivia did come back with a light repast about twenty minutes after she had gone. She brought some bread and fruit. Very light fare it was, and I found myself nibbling on it in spite of my resolve not to do so. The fruit was cool and refreshing, and the bread was fresh baked. She had brought along some very nice cider as well, and for the most part, I was very glad she had not listened to me after all—this time.

Nivia was gone for the night, and I was caught up in the serenity of the evening. I was very tired. I suppose even the small grief of missing friends who you know are well, they are merely apart from you, can cause you to be somewhat more tired that you normally would be. But then, if I would stop to consider it, this was only my second full day in Imladris, and I had just concluded a very long journey. I was with child, and had been beset with severe nausea since almost the very first moment I had conceived this child—and retching a lot of the time—so my stamina was not at its best anyway. When Elladan suddenly appeared at the railing from below me, I thought my heart had stopped. I almost fell backward I was so surprised.

"Eru, Elladan!" I practically screamed. "Why must you always do that? You almost scared me completely to death this time!"

He finished hefting himself over the railing, landing lightly beside me. He hugged me to him and apologized for scaring me, then tightened his hold when he realized I how badly I was shaking.

"I truly did frighten you, didn't I?" he asked with a laugh, as if the idea surprised him.

"What do you think I have been trying to tell you ever since we started from Minas Tirith, Elladan?" I whined. "Do you think I only speak to hear my own voice?"

He chuckled gently, still holding me to him.

"I said I was sorry," he soothed. "What would you have me do, jump from the rail in remorse for my sin?"

"That may help," I said, smiling into his shoulder as I finally began to return his embrace.

He gently pushed me from him, though he kept his hold on my waist.

"I missed you at mealtime," he said, and he brushed his lips against mine lightly. It felt very nice, and I thought that would be all there was to it, but I should have known—after all, this was Elladan. He pulled me against him gently, and the light, gentle kiss was working its magic on me. Eru, this Elf had to leave me be. I could not fend him off with him kissing me this way. I was finding it difficult to fend him off when he was simply near me any more.

I gently disengaged myself from Elladan's hold and held him at arm's length.

"Elladan," I said gently, "why are you here?"

"I hoped," he said coolly, "to convince you to sleep with me tonight."

I wondered if I looked as shocked as I felt. I sincerely did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had shaken my propriety clear to my toes.

"I suppose by 'sleep' you had no actual sleep in mind?" I asked calmly.

He looked at me evilly. "Not a wink."

_It was now official. The votes had been called and counted. This Elf knew no shame!_

"Well," I said as I skirted away from his grasp, "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am afraid that is not possible."

He stood where I'd left him, but he watched me, as if I were a wren and he was a cat, hoping for a bit of sport before settling down for a meal.

"Oh?" he asked. "And why would it not be possible? Shy, are you?"

I wanted to slap the sarcasm from the beautiful visage that was mocking me. He knew exactly how shy I was when it came to him; we had come very close to making love on the banks of the Bruinen nearly a week ago. Did I truly want to slap him, or prove him irrevocably wrong? I knew what I wanted, but I also knew how it had to be. I was a guest in Elrond's house. He definitely did not approve of me being with his daughter's husband before they were married; I somehow did not think he would sanction the idea of me for one of his sons, either, especially since I was still with child from the tryst I'd had with Aragorn. The only question was, how strong was my will, when confronted with my desire for this Elf? I knew if I took one step closer to Elladan, I would have no will to stop this time. Even as much as I did not want to incur the wrath of the Elf lord, my flesh was weak. I would give in without any more fight.

"I believe you know as well as I do that shy is hardly the word one would use to describe my reaction to you," I said seductively, though I moved no closer to him. _How had that tone crept into my voice? _"What would your father say, knowing that I, who he barely approves of anyway, am here seducing his son under his very roof?"

"I beg your pardon, lady healer," Elladan said with what seemed as slight taken by my words, "it is I who am seducing you, I believe."

"So now we quibble over trivialities, Elladan?" I purred. It would seem my fine Elven would-be lover perhaps needed to feel in control at all times. Could this be a way of keeping him at arm's length? A bit of female pushiness?

"Enough of this talk," he said, as he closed the distance between us and took me into his arms once again.

_So much for using female pushiness—I was lost and I knew it!_

Eru help me, he set my blood afire when he touched me—even innocently as he was doing now. I could feel his arms around me tighten, and as I looked up into his beautiful blue-gray eyes, I became lost in them. I wanted to give in to every base desire I had, and I had many of them at the moment. But I had to at least give a token struggle, or I would feel complete disgust for myself afterward—as if I would not feel complete disgust for myself afterward anyway, if I allowed myself to go to bed with Elladan when it was so against my better judgment.

Elladan lifted his long nimble fingers to my hair and deftly began removing my hairpins, dropping them where he may. He continued pulling the pins, and my hair began to fall in large curls as he freed it. When he had all the small picks removed, he ran his hands next to my scalp, combing his long fingers through my hair, helping to free it more fully, and allowing it to fall completely down my back. It reached almost to my waist and the restraint I'd had it under had caused it to curl and curve as it wove its way around my shoulders and arms.

"You have beautiful hair," the Elf said—almost whispering—as his fingers brushed my temples on their way into my mane once again. "The color is of wheat as the sun sets upon it at the day's end."

I said nothing. I wanted him gone, and I wanted him closer. I wanted him naked, and I wanted him armored. I was so torn; I knew better than this. I knew so much better than this.

But I cared not.

I wanted him—and I wanted him now.

My shaking fingers grasped the clasps of his tunic, and I slowly unfastened them, opening it, and revealing his shirt beneath. He looked at me somewhat curiously, but I did not stop until I undid the last one. I stepped to the side and reached up to his shoulders, sliding first one of his arms from the tunic, then helping the other out as well. I folded the jacket over my arm, smoothing the fabric, and then lay it upon a table that was just inside the door to my room. I started to turn around and return to him, but he had come up behind me, and his arms encircled my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder. I felt his breath on my cheek.

I turned my body in his arms. I know not what material his shirt was made of, but it was slick and the linen of my robe slid easily against it. Eru, how my breasts reacted to the warmth and closeness of his chest! He began kissing me again, and slowly walked us toward my bed. We smiled through our kiss, when we bumped against the corner of the wardrobe. He looked up, his handsome smile killing me for want of those lips to be placed back onto mine. Taking note of the right direction, he steered us back onto the right course, and kissing me once again, he walked us onward to our goal until my rear gently nudged the mattress.

When we could advance no farther, he looked at me again, by necessity having to rob my lips of the pleasure of his.

"Do you want this, Maeren?" he asked, his voice low.

"You know me well enough by now to know there would be no doubt in your mind if I objected, Elladan," I replied. "Of course I want it. It is terribly unwise, for many reasons, but want you I do."

His eyes dropped to the top of my robe, where his fingers began untying the ribbons that held it closed. He took his time, deliberately pulling each bow slowly, until it opened and he could separate the robe's lapels. I wanted to grab the ridiculous robe and rip it from my body, but if it gave him pleasure to drive me to madness, who was I to deprive him of the sensation? He finally had it opened, and he peeled it from my shoulders, letting it fall into a mound at our feet. The nightdress I wore was free of adornment, however it was more than a little sheer. I watched his face as his eyes traveled over my breasts, seeing them for the first time. I wondered what he thought of my body. Thirty-year-old breasts of a Human woman, fuller from the condition of being with child, so they appeared not to sag as badly as they really did ordinarily. I was suddenly embarrassed and turned away, crossing my arms over my chest as I did so.

"What are you doing?" he asked smiling, slightly annoyed; yet slightly intrigued.

"Nothing," I stammered. "Perhaps this is a bad idea. Maybe you should go and we should forget about this."

"Why the sudden change?" he asked, mystified. He was still smiling, but not laughing at me. "You are beautiful, and just as I was about to bare your body to allow myself a better view, you take yourself away from me? You are so unfair, Maeren!"

"I am not beautiful," I said with conviction. "I am sure I do not in any way measure up to the Elven women to whom you are accustomed. I would feel better if you used your imagination in regard to me, and did not really know how badly I would compare to any one of the Elves. It would be better were we not to proceed."

"Is that what this is about?" he asked in astonishment. "Your opinion of me must certainly be low if you believe you are in some sort of contest with the Elves for the most attractive lover I have ever lain with. Maeren, do you think I merely wish to test the waters of Human sexuality? I can assure you, that is not the case." He gently grasped me by the elbow and turned me back to face him. "I can promise you, in your own way, you are every bit—and even more so in some ways—as sensual as any of the Elven women I have ever taken pleasures of the body with. Why must different automatically be seen as inferior? I do not deem it so." He began to run his warm, Elven hands over the skin of my arms. I lifted my large, Rohirric eyes to his cool Elven ones.

"Ai, those eyes will be my undoing," he said, and he began dropping sweet and tender kisses down the side of my face and down my jaw, until he came to my mouth, where he finally granted my wish and kissed me again.

My passion was overwhelming me, both my body and my mind, and I was finding myself believing him in spite of my misgivings about how I must lack when compared to Elven women. My doubts were quickly being pushed away by the sweeping of his tongue against my teeth, and I opened my mouth more fully, allowing his tongue to mingle with mine. Our lips parted once more, as he grasped my nightdress at my sides and began bunching it up. He drew it over my head, then tossed it onto the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving mine, not even when the sheerness of the cloth came between us.

It was not long before he laid me back against the coverlet, slowly as he did everything else. I was unaccustomed to this type of lovemaking. Dustin and I, while we did not go 'at it' at fever pitch, did not dawdle either. I could not yet decide if I could get used to the Elven way of things—at least as far as bedroom rituals were concerned. I supposed time would tell.

As soon as I was lying upon my back properly to his satisfaction, he lay beside me on his side, propped up on one elbow, his head cradled in one hand. The other he laid gently on the swell of my abdomen, where Aragorn's child lay gently undulating beneath the skin. We both watched as his hand gently rose and fell with the baby's antics, and I turned my eyes to see Elladan's face. He smiled several times, and with a barely perceptible shake of his head, he finally lifted his hand, trailing it up my torso, until it rested between my breasts. He lifted his face to mine and his lips began their gentle assault on mine again, much to my pleasure. My hands began unbuttoning his shirt; I thought it most unfair for me to be so totally unclothed and he to be totally not. He helped me divest himself of the garment as soon as I had it unfastened, and I quickly began working at unfastening his leggings. My hands were shaking in anticipation, so ready was I to make love to him.

One of his hands found one of my breasts, and I gasped at the pleasure it brought. I had not finished my task of freeing that of his which I needed for my total fulfillment, but I could no longer concentrate on anything other than what he was doing to me. He took his long Elven fingers from teasing my breast, and I moaned with disappointment, and he laughed lightly, which made me moan again, for he'd taken his lips from mine then. But he replaced his fingers with his mouth, and I gasped much louder this time.

_Eru, he was going to kill me!_

My hands grasped the sides of his face and pulled him back up to mine. I kissed him deeply, letting him know I was beyond playing any longer. I wanted not to scream at him to take me, but I was fast reaching that place and my pride was seeming a small thing to sacrifice at this point.

Then suddenly all the air rushed from my lungs at the pain that stabbed through me. That same pain I'd had that one morning when we had still been traveling. I gasped and went rigid, and I saw Elladan's face frown with concern.

"What is it, Maeren?" he asked.

"I know not, Elladan," I managed to say between gritted teeth. "The pain—is terribly bad."

"Where?" he asked, his voice rising. "What pains you?"

I lay my hand across the side of my abdomen, where it had lanced through me those weeks ago. Three times it had done so that day, and then had gone away, leaving me tired and shaky, but it had come no more. This was much worse and had not abated at all. It was not coming in waves, but staying constantly.

"Elladan," I said nearing panic, "take me to Haldan. Please hurry."

Without question he did exactly that. He picked me up, coverlet and all, and took me out of the door of my room, sending it crashing back against the wall as we exited. He practically ran down the corridors of his home, and thankfully, we did not meet anyone else. It was approaching midnight, and the house was quiet for the night. It was a very good thing that it was. I was nude beneath the coverlet from my bed, and Elladan was practically in the same condition. He was still wearing his boots and his leggings, which were unlaced almost halfway and open quite far. Thank Eru they were fairly tight, or they may have fallen in our flight to the Halls of Healing.

We arrived at the infirmary in short order, and even though I could not see where we were going in the dark, I knew Elladan's Elven eyes could see quite well enough. He soon had me lying in a bed in one of the private rooms in the Healing Halls, and after making sure I would be fine, he left for the few moments it would take to fetch Haldan from his bed in his room.

In merely seconds I could hear voices coming from somewhere close. I could hear the sound of flint striking stone as a lamp was lit. Haldan came quickly over to the bed and sat down on the mattress beside me.

"What is the matter, Maeren?" he asked in the kindest of voices.

"I am in terrible pain," I said, unsurprised at the shakiness of my voice.

"And where is this terrible pain?" he asked in concern.

I wormed one of my arms out of the coverlet from where it had been cocooned, and laid my hand alongside my belly, where the pain was worse.

He grimaced, as if it concerned him greatly, and well it should. It concerned me that much as well. He started to peel me from within my nest, but noticed my bare shoulders, I suppose, and stopped. He turned to Elladan, to tell him to vacate the room, but paused and eyed him suspiciously for a moment. Seeing the healer glance at the loose ties of his leggings, Elladan quickly caught the free ends of the lacings and deftly tightened them and retied them.

"Elladan, I need to examine the lady," Haldan said wryly, "wait outside please."

As soon as the disheveled Elf had exited the room, Haldan got up and retrieved a clean sheet from the cupboard on the wall across the room from the bed. He returned to me and began to unroll me from the coverlet, helping me to stand first, then holding the sheet in front of me to preserve my modesty. He then helped me to lie back down, holding his warm Elven hand over the center of the most intense pain for a few moments, allowing his healing power to dull it somewhat.

"Maeren," he said directly, "I must examine you internally. You have had such an examination before, have you not?" At my nod, he continued. "I must determine if the birthing process has begun, you agree, correct?" I nodded once again. "Fine. Well, let's get to it, then."

He pulled the sheet up to the tops of my thighs, then steepled my knees, placing my feet flat on the bed, and spreading my knees apart at the same time. Ordinarily I would have been mortified, but I was so afraid for my baby's life, I cared not at the moment. It was over very quickly, and he pulled the sheet down, covering me again. Haldan went over to the table where a basin of water sat and washed his hands. He dried them as he approached the bed again.

"As far as I can ascertain," he said calmly, "all is normal. The ring of muscles holding the womb closed, is tight and rigid, just as it should be in this stage of your condition. It has neither opened nor thinned that I could determine. There is no bleeding, and I could detect no sign of leakage of the fluid, which surrounds the baby. I think what we should do is keep you here in the Healing Halls for tonight, check you again in an hour or two—unless the pain increases. If it does, I will check you sooner. I will dose you with something for the pain, and something for relaxing of the muscles, and an herb or two that are known to promote health in the female reproductive system. As soon as you are pain free, and examination bears out that the birthing process is not forthcoming, you will be free to go—and get as much bed rest as you can. How does this plan sound, from one healer to another?"

"It sounds very sensible," I replied, relieved. After a few moments I asked him, "What do you think is causing this Haldan?"

"Has it ever happened before?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered. "Once before. On the journey from Minas Tirith, a few weeks ago. Only that time, it was a short series of pains—short stabs. Very intense, but not long lasting. After I rested for a brief time, I felt just fine once more, and we were on our way. I have not had it again, until now."

"Maeren," he said sheepishly, "that time, were you engaged in, shall we say, 'foreplay'?"

I must have blushed every color of red there is in the spectrum, that is how embarrassed I was.

"No!" I exclaimed quietly. "Far from it. It was the first thing in the morning. I had just risen, and that particular activity was the furthest thing from my mind."

"I mean not to be disrespectful," he said, "and ordinarily I ask not and care not what others do in the privacy of their own bed chambers, but you well know these things are of import when a healer is seeking answers concerning a patient in pain when she is with child, and said child is not due for quite a few months yet. It seems you may have a somewhat more delicate condition this time around, and things such as 'foreplay' may not be in the best interest of the child. But then, I suppose you know this, since you are a healer yourself." He was not being in the least bit condescending. He truly believed I knew that of which he was speaking.

"No," I replied confused. "I know not at all to what you are referring. I have never heard that making love could jeopardize an unborn child into appearing before its time."

"Let me simply say," he said, seeming to search for his words carefully, "that a female's body can become stimulated into thinking it is ready to deliver the infant, and begin the birthing process when the woman has achieved her goal of reaching her—shall we say—pinnacle."

_Now I truly thought I would die of embarrassment._

I knew not what to say, so I said nothing.

Being true to form, however, that did not stop Haldan.

"I know you did not actually complete the act with Elladan," he said with chagrin, "your examination showed the lack of evidence of that. But that does not mean you did not become stimulated enough for your body to decide it was getting the signals to deliver the infant. I know not for certain if this is exactly what happened to you in this case, but given the circumstances, it would be foolhardy of me to discount it as merely coincidence. I hate to be such a wet blanket, but in my expert opinion, I would advise you to steer clear of Elladan—at least as a bed mate—until after the child is delivered."

"Well," I said when I finally recovered my voice, "if you believe there is even the remotest of possibilities that this type of thing may have caused this problem, it will not be repeated. You have my word on that."

"As I said," he restated, "I have no definitive way of knowing, unless it happens again without such stimulation. However, tis better to be safe than sorry. I will have a word with Elladan as well, have no fear. I will also send him after a suitable sleeping garment from your bedchamber, while I am at it. I will return shortly with your tonics. Try to rest easy."

Haldan left the room, but did not close the door. I wondered if he did it on purpose. I was able to hear exactly what both he and Elladan said. It was such a priceless conversation.

"How is she, Haldan?" I heard Elladan ask worriedly.

"I believe her to be fine, Elladan," Haldan replied. "I examined her thoroughly, and the birth is not imminent, so we have not that worry. She is not bleeding, nor is there anything else out of the ordinary happening with her; just the persistent pain. I believe it to be her body's response to too much sexual stimulation."

I would have given my left small toe to have seen Elladan's face at that moment, but hearing his voice was almost as good.

"Too much _what_, Haldan?" Elladan croaked, obviously shocked.

"You heard me correctly, Elf-boy," Haldan accused. "You needn't sound so innocent. It didn't take a genius to conclude what the two of you had been doing just prior to your visiting me. She was naked, Elladan. For Valar's sake, you very nearly were! No shirt, and your leggings hanging open—you were perilously close to being exposed. Come on, Elladan, I may have the looks of a child, but I certainly was not born yesterday!"

"Regardless," Elladan picked up his prior train of thought, "she is going to be fine, though, you do think so, do you not, Haldan?" He sounded as if he needed to be reassured of that fact.

"I am keeping her here with me tonight and dosing her good as I see fit. I will continue to monitor her, and as soon as she is pain free, and I am certain there is no danger to the child, I will release her to return to her bed. A_lone_. We do understand each other, do we not Elladan? There is to be no repeat of this performance of yours until well after this baby is born, do I make myself clear? You do see that we can take no chances with her, do you not? If this is the problem, it is a precious small sacrifice to make for the life of the child, correct? If it is not the problem—well, we will hope it does not occur again, but if it does, we will tackle the trouble when it does. Now, do me and Maeren a favor, and return to her bedchamber and retrieve one of her nightdresses please. Then you may see her and wish her a good night."

Elladan said nothing more to Haldan, he just left the room. I heard the door close softly behind him. A few minutes later, Haldan brought me the tonics he had promised, and I took them like a good patient. It was a good thing he had not promised they would be tasty, or he would have been called a liar by me. They were horrid. But I did not complain. I needed the pain to ease.

I still did not believe Haldan's theory that my near brush with lovemaking was the cause of all this. I had no better explanation, however, so I kept my thoughts to myself. One would have thought, had his theory been true, that the pain would have been in waves, as childbirth pain always is, but this definitely was not. It was a long burning ache, and I kept going over in my mind the anatomy of the body, and what organs and muscles there were at the apex of this ache. Muscles and ligaments was all my mind could come up with. I was wearying myself thinking on it so hard, and I had been exhausted before Elladan had surprised me on my veranda. Add to that the pain relieving and muscle relaxing tonics Haldan had just administered to me, and I was bound to be out very soon.

Haldan had lowered the wick in the lamp before he had left me, so the room was darkened when Elladan returned with my nightdress. He helped me sit up, and he placed it over my head, dressing me as one would a small child. He helped me to my feet for a few moments, so he could smooth the dress down my body. He was taking care that I would be comfortable, and that the nightdress would not be bunched up all in one place beneath my back. _He was really a very considerate Elf, was he not?_

He laid me back down on the bed and lowered himself to his knees, covering me up and tucking me in.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Is the pain any better?"

"I am doing better," I said quietly.

"I am sorry this happened," he said somberly. "I somehow feel responsible; like I did something to cause it. I didn't mean to hurt you, Maeren. I would never hurt you, you know that, don't you?"

"It was not your fault, Elladan," I said fussing at him. "I do not believe Haldan's idea as to the possible cause of this. I think were that the reason, this pain would be more wave-like, and not this unremitting ache. I am not saying I will not take his advice, because I plan to. I will do exactly as he advises. If there is the smallest chance that our making love—or almost making love—caused this, then we must not do so while I am still with child. You agree, do you not?"

"Absolutely," Elladan replied without hesitation. "I want nothing to hurt you or the baby. If there is a chance that making love would bring on an early birth, it is a chance we dare not take. I would not risk you or the baby for anything."

"Then stop blaming yourself for my pain," I said. "I seem to recall taking part in the activity, so if you are to blame, then so am I, and I feel not like blaming myself." He chuckled at that and so did I, happy to see him somewhat relieved. I knew I had been frightened, but I had not known just how frightened this Elf had been.

"Close your eyes and sleep, Mae," Elladan soothed. "You look to be very tired."

_There was 'Mae' again._

"I am," I said, as I stifled a yawn. "Only you go to bed. I will rest easier knowing you are not here, bruising your bony knees on my account."

He laughed lightly again and dropped a kiss on my forehead.

"I will stay only until you fall asleep," he said quietly. "Will that be all right?"

I nodded, unable to form even one more coherent sentence. The last thing I remember was my would be Elven lover kneeling beside my bed, taking my hand in his and kissing it. It sounded almost as if he said that he loved me, but I knew that could not be right. Must have just been all the tonics Haldan had given me. Elladan would never have said such a thing.

After all—why would he?

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	31. Stories and Stones

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien. 

"I've got it! I've got it! I've got it!" Haldan shouted as he entered my room the next morning, oblivious to the fact that I had been sleeping soundly at the time. I blinked as I sat up, wincing at the pain that was still with me, although it was duller this morning, and seemed to have settled a bit lower down in my side. 

Haldan was brandishing a tall pitcher of water with a fairly tall glass on a tray. He set his load down on the table by the bed, his face beaming as if he had just discovered the cure for every human disease with which Middle Earth had ever thought to plague her lesser children. 

"You must drink, drink, drink of the water, and then tinkle in the chamber pot yonder until there is a resounding 'clink'. You, my dear, are suffering from a kidney stone—I would bet my immortal life on it, I am so sure of my diagnosis." He had been filling the empty glass with water as he ranted, and handed it to me to drain as he continued. "I beg forgiveness for not thinking of it last night, but the circumstances of your arrival, and your pre-existing condition threw me off. Not a good excuse, I know, but give me a minute, and I will think up a better one. Oh, I know! It is a largely human illness—one that Elves do not suffer from at any rate—so it was not in the forefront of my mind. Yes, that is a much better excuse, to be sure." 

"Breathe, Haldan," I laughed, "I fear you will pass out from lack of air. And yes, it makes very much sense and is a logical diagnosis. I cannot believe I did not think of it myself. Of all the times to _not_ be retching! Nausea usually accompanies the pain of this malady, although I can say with relief that I am not missing that particular symptom much, if at all." 

"Yes, yes, my dear Maeren," he was still beaming, "another thing which threw me off the track, I must say. Your only symptom was that relentless pain. It does still plague you this morning, does it not?" He did just manage to add the last comment with the smallest bit of sympathy, at least. 

"Yes," I replied, "though it has moved a bit lower, it is still there. It is only a dull ache, not a sharp pain, thank Eru, or I would be retching, you can be sure." 

"Well, drink up and cheers!" Haldan exclaimed, much too brightly, if one would ask me. I would need to remind him that pain was involved in passing this thing, and that cheer hardly had a place in the process, except at the end, when success was at hand. 

I had been in the cheering section because of a kidney stone before, but never the one having to do the actual work of passing one. I had held many a quaking hand, shivering with the intense pain of it, as the stone worked its way down from the kidney, catching on the walls of the vessel in which it had no business being in the first place. Valar, how I hated the thoughts of this. Perhaps this was as bad as it would get. The pain didn't always have to be excruciating—it just usually was. 

"Haldan," I said hesitantly, hoping he would go for my plan, "I do not have to stay here to pass this, do I? I can go and be miserable in my own room, may I not?" 

"Of course, Maeren," Haldan assured me. "I will accompany you back to your room, and bring with me some valerian—that will probably suffice for the pain, do you not think so? If things become unbearable, send Nivia to me, and I will come and comfort you. There is truly no reason why you must stay in here, when you would be more comfortable in your own bed. If you feel up to it now, proceed to dress, and I will make up a few packets to leave with you. I won't be long."

"Uh, Haldan," I stammered, "I would do as you direct, but I have nothing in which to dress myself, so I suppose I will simply bundle up in the blanket and be gone, all right?" 

"It matters not to me," he replied. "Be at ease for a few moments while I make up the packets. But do drink, and drink some more. The more we flood Mr. Stone with liquids, the further he will move along, and the faster he will exit, will he not?" 

"And one more thing, Haldan," I said, beginning to feel a bit cross. "Your cheer would be best reserved for the end of the affair, take my word for it. I am in no mood for happy faces and jolly voices." 

"I stand corrected, dear lady," Haldan said, his face and voice losing their cheerfulness, but his eyes retaining their sparkle, and the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up at any second. "Of course you are right. How obtuse of me, to forget you are in pain. My apologies. I am simply so delighted to have figured out the puzzle, that is all!" The last sentence was again as jolly as the first one he had said upon entry to my room. 

_It seems there was no dampening this Elf's spirit. _

While Haldan saw to gathering some packets of valerian for me to have on hand in my room during my time of trial, I saw to my morning's call to nature. As I had feared, it only proved to be an exercise in agony, unfortunately. And it confirmed Haldan's diagnosis, for not only had there been no relief after I had relived myself, there was a distinct tinge of red mixed in with my 'tinkle' as he'd named it, in the chamber pot. After I was finished, I sat on the bed and sipped the water dejectedly until Haldan returned. He hadn't taken long, and then we both left the Healing Halls, and made our way through the corridors and up the stairs of the house, back to my room. Haldan helped me back into bed, tucking me in and making sure a tall pitcher of water and a glass were close at hand. 

"I will leave word in the kitchen to have juice brought up soon—and Maeren, please try to drink all of it. Especially if the retching should start. You must keep the natural levels of your blood as normal as you can during the baby's gestation; upsets such as this can wreak havoc with your system." Haldan stopped and smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. "I am sorry if I am telling you things you already know—I tend to forget I am speaking to someone who is a healer herself. Please forgive me. I mean no slight; I hope you believe me."

"Haldan," I said, almost frustrated, "of course I believe you. Female healers are almost unheard of—at lease among humans. I know not how common they are among Elves. So consider yourself forgiven. Now, go on about your business. I will be fine. If I need you to be holding my hand, I will send for you, all right?" 

"That will be fine," he said with a smile. "Should I try to find a bit of company for you? Perhaps one twin or another? An Elf lord—_not named Erestor?" _

"Go to no bother," I said lazily. "I will try to sleep while the pain is not horrible." 

"In that case," Haldan said, as he set about drawing the drapes all around the room, "I will make it darker in here." He was still in the room, I suppose, for I had not heard the door open or close, but it was so dark that I could no longer see him. However, I jumped in fright when his voice suddenly sounded very near to my ear. 

"I am sorry for frightening you, Maeren," Haldan said in apology. "I forget you cannot see me as clearly in the dark as I can see you. I was going to say that the chamber pot is directly beside the table below you here, should you need it." He gave it a slight kick with his boot, for I could hear a faint ring. "Anything else you can think of that you may need, before I leave you to sleep?" 

"No," I replied sleepily, for he had already dosed me with valerian again. "I am fine for now. Only just thank you again, Haldan, for being so sweet to care for me—that is all." 

He patted my shoulder and dropped a kiss on my brow. "Tis what I am here for, my dear Maeren," he said. "Now sleep. I will check on you before too long." 

"Haldan," I said, before he could get away, "if I am asleep when you come back, please do not be waking me up. I fear this will get worse before it improves, and I will take all the comfort I can before that time comes." 

"You have my promise on that, my dear," he said sweetly. "Now sleep. Good night." 

This time I did hear the door open and close, meaning he had left me this time. I settled cozily into the bed and was asleep within minutes. Also within minutes, it seemed, I was dreaming a very strange dream. 

I was wandering in a darkness so complete I could have been blind. In fact, I wondered if I was not, for I could not see even a hand held before my face, yet I continued to wander. I knew not where my destination was—I knew not where my feet took me. I simply wandered. I was very tired and heavy with child—the King's child, and he was somewhere in the darkness making demands of me. 'Do not have a girl child—I shall have her beheaded for the crime of being female.' 'My son will live in the Citadel with the King and Queen where he belongs. He will be locked away so no one will know of his sin of being a bastard, but he will be with me always, and you shall not see him for the rest of your life.' 'He will be named Aragorn III, though no one will see him, nor know of his existence. And if you will not be silent, Maeren, I will silence you, for the secret of his sire must be upheld.' I was afraid to run, for I was all but blinded by the darkness, but I had to run from the King, lest he get his hands on my child. I could not let the baby fall into his evil clutches—my child's life would be forfeit if such a thing would be allowed to happen. Boy or girl, it mattered not—my baby was as good as dead if its father ever beheld it. So I started to run, but did not get far, when I tripped and fell into what must have been the widest and deepest of chasms. I started falling deeper and deeper into the bottomless hole, and I began to scream— 

And I woke up screaming, but it was no longer so totally dark. A lamp had been lit, and I was staring into the startled gaze of Nivia. 

"You were dreaming, Maeren," Nivia said in great understatement. 

As soon as I could breathe normally again, I agreed with her. 

"Yes, Nivia, I was definitely dreaming," I replied, still a bit out of breath. 

"Are you recovered now?" she asked with concern. She obviously had not dealt much with humans and their nightmares; I would have laughed at her stricken face, but I was still shaken by the emotions brought on by my dream. 

"Almost, my friend," I said. It began to register in my mind that my pain was much worse again. Much worse. And lower, thanks be. The lower it got in my body, the closer the stone got to passing from it. I could not wait. 

"Nivia, some water please?" I asked weakly. 

"Of course," she responded, and handed me the glass once she had filled it. "Haldan asked me to check on you and your pain. How are you faring?" 

"Tell Haldan," I said, "that the pain is much worse, but working its way lower; he will know what I am speaking about. It is a good sign, Nivia. The kidney stone is moving its way out of my body. Hopefully, it will not take much longer before I can flush it out." 

"That is very good, Maeren," she said with relief. "I was sorry to hear this morning that you were feeling poorly. I had never heard of such a malady before, but Haldan explained it to me. You can rest assured, I will do everything within my power to help you in any way I can. If there is anything I may do for you, simply tell me, and I will do my best to see it done." 

"Thank you, Nivia," I told her. "What time of day is it?" 

"It is almost noon," she replied. "Are you hungry at all? Should I bring you a light meal?" 

"No," I said, wrinkling my nose. "I am not hungry at all. The opposite, in fact. Nivia, could you open the drapes, please. I find the dark not so comforting any more."

"Surely," she said, "it would be my pleasure." Nivia went to do my bidding, opening the windows to allow the gentle breeze to play with the gauzy curtains she left hanging over the wide expanse. It was a most pleasant sight, to see the light again. 

"I will go now and tell Haldan about your returning pain," Nivia said. "Is there anything else I may get for you?" 

"No," I shook my head. "I will be fine. Thank you anyway." I watched as she left, closing the door quietly behind her. I wished my pain away, but it did not comply, and was still with me even after I had given it a few moments to be away. _Twas the plight of the second-born, after all, to endure the sicknesses Mother Nature so kindly provided to us._

I must have dozed for a few moments, for the sound of a knock upon the door woke me. I bid whoever was knocking to enter, and Elrohir poked his head in. 

"I came to see how you were faring," he said in explanation. "By the looks of things, not so well, I would say." 

"By the sound of that comment, I must look terrible indeed," I sniped. "I suppose that is an apt description of how I feel." 

"I meant it not like that," Elrohir chided. "Why must you always twist my words?" 

"I wasn't aware that I did," I replied. 

"Do you mind company?" he asked, ignoring my rancor. "I cannot ease your pain much, but I do have broad shoulders for an Elf, they say; I would gladly lend you one—or both—to cry on; if it would help." 

I smiled at him, despite my bad humor. "I do not mind company. Come in, and pull up a chair. I, however, will not be much of a companion, so I apologize in advance." 

"No need for any apology," he declared. "You are entitled to sulk. I've not heard of this particular ill you have contracted, but as Haldan explains it, it sounds excruciating indeed." 

"The excruciating part comes and goes," I admitted. "Right now it is bearable, just annoying." 

Elrohir leaned towards the table beside the bed, and began pouring water into the glass, then handed it to me when it was full. 

"Haldan also told me to push this on you when I could," he said with a sly grin. 

"I am waterlogged as it is," I said pleadingly, holding my palm against the glass, warding it off as if it was poison. "The mere sight of it is nauseating at this point." 

Elrohir pursed his handsome lips and quirked an eyebrow. "Well, let's not have any of that unpleasant retching, if you please. Estel did quite enough of it when he lived here to last me a lifetime, thank you very much." 

At the mention of Aragorn's name, the nightmare I'd had earlier came drifting back into my mind. I shuddered as I remembered his voice, uttering the profane comments concerning my baby during the dream, in the extreme darkness as I stumbled on my path to nowhere. 

Elrohir evidently noticed my shiver, for he laid his hand on my arm as it lay upon the coverlet of my bed. 

"What is it, Maeren?" he asked. "What did I say to upset you?" 

"Nothing, Elrohir," I lied. "Nothing at all." 

He gave a short laugh. "That is not true. Why are you skirting the truth with me? I mentioned Estel, and you looked as if I had mentioned Sauron, himself." 

"I said it was nothing!" I retorted, more loudly than I had planned. "Why must you badger me?" 

He sat back, apparently stunned by my weak attack. "Excuse me!" he said, laughing, "I stand corrected! I will 'badger' you no more!" 

"I am sorry, Elrohir," I apologized. I was uncertain as to how to tell him I had dreamed that Aragorn threatened my unborn child, and it frightened me, even though my conscious mind knew it for the ridiculous notion that it was. "I had a nightmare earlier this morning, and Aragorn was in it—and he was evil." 

"Estel?" he said incredulously, "evil? The two words are complete opposites. You know Estel, and he is not evil." 

"That is really the point, though, Elrohir," I confided. "I do not really know Aragorn. I do not know him at all." 

Elrohir appeared puzzled. I suppose he wondered how I could be carrying his foster brother's child and not know the man at all. It seemed a contradiction in terms. I knew not how much I could explain without embarrassing myself absolutely to death, or how much he would want to hear without the same happening to him. I decided to let him ask if his curiosity was so great it drove him to inquire. 

"Maeren," he said with a certain hesitation, "how came it to be that you conceived his child, yet you say you do not know Estel at all—if I may be so crass as to inquire such a thing?" 

"Elrohir," I said, already beginning to blush, "if I die before I complete my explanation, know that it was from utter embarrassment, all right?" I looked down at my hands, and took a deep breath. 

"You have not heard the story from Aragorn or Arwen?" I asked. 

He shook his head in the negative, smiling sheepishly. 

I closed my eyes momentarily and breathed deeply again. I placed my hands upon the mound of my belly, caressing the baby within me the best that I could. "This little person was conceived the night the Battle of the Pelennor was fought. The day Aragorn sailed up the Anduin to the rescue of Gondor, thanks be, or there would be no Gondor, as we know it any longer, I am afraid. I would no longer be upon Middle Earth, nor would be scores of others. It is hard to say what the arrival of Aragorn and the rest of you prevented that day. Sure annihilation, I would say. Anyway, I had been in the wards for over twenty-four hours straight, and had been beset with one too many young soldiers, either very close to dying or dying outright in my arms; and by young, I mean _too_ young—fourteen, fifteen years old if they were a day. 

"As bad as it was on the actual battlefield, it was a battlefield of sorts in the Houses as well, Elrohir. You were there, attending those afflicted with the Black Breath. You saw how the wards were overflowing; wounded stacked against the walls; every spare inch filled with a bed or a cot; the supply rooms cleared to make room for soldiers in need of a bed. And I was in charge of it all. I was the one deciding who got treated, and who was too wounded to live. I was the one who had to pry dying fingers from my apron, as the person those fingers were attached to, pleaded with me to not let him die, even though there was no hope that the person would live. I cannot tell you how many times that scenario played itself out through the day my friend, but it must have been hundreds of times. How I wished to just sit with the men till they passed from the world. Sometimes it would have only been a matter of a few minutes, but even that was too much time to waste, for there were just too many wounded coming in. You have no idea how much it sickens me to call that a waste of time, for ordinarily, that is something that, to me at least, is as much a part of being a healer as bringing a new life into the world—easing a life out of it." I stopped speaking, for I could not speak for a time. My tears were flowing, and I had to regain my composure. Elrohir handed me a hanky he pulled from somewhere, and I used it to dab at my eyes. He said nothing, and I was grateful for that. This was turning into somewhat of a purging for me, and it was helping me in ways I could not fathom, and was not even aware of at the moment. 

"I am sorry for digressing," I said at last. "I suppose I tell you these things, for it is important to me that you understand my frame of mind. Perhaps then you may not think me a total harlot when you hear the rest of the story. Anyway, by the time night had fallen, I was dealt the final blow. Another youth was brought in, not more than fifteen years old. It was obvious he would be dying within moments, so I simply held him. There were no more emergencies, and I was going to my home at any rate, so I had the time to ease him from this world. As I held him, he spoke to me—he called me 'mother'. I know not if you know this, Elrohir, but I have been a mother before. My son would be fifteen now, had he and his father not been killed in a fire three years ago." I glanced at my audience, and his eyes were swimming now. He looked down at the floor, then back up at me, and a tear escaped one of his eyes as he did this. He shook his head, silently telling me that he had not known of this part of my life, either. 

"As soon as the young soldier was gone, I left the wards and went to a small, private garden where I often went when life got too much for me. The garden consisted of only a scraggly tree and a patch of grass, but a haven it was to me. It was a walled garden—very private—and the entire time I was in Minas Tirith, no one ever intruded on me there. No one intruded that is, until Aragorn decided to visit that same small garden I thought was secret, just a short while after I had gone there that night. We began talking to one another, about nothing in particular at first. Somehow the subject came up about why I was there. 

"I know not what made me tell him; I used to not share the pain of my loss with others easily; it comes with less pain these days, it seems. But like you here now, it left him weeping. I was aghast that I had brought him to tears, and I moved to comfort him. It was then that he told me of his loss on the Pelennor—of a dear ranger friend of his that he had known and fought with for years. He spoke as if he had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders—and he did, I know now. And then—entirely by accident—he used an endearment my husband often said to me, and I foolishly kissed him. I started it, Elrohir. It was all my fault, now that I think of it. I kissed him first, because I missed my husband so much it hurt with a physical pain. Of course I was horribly embarrassed, and apologized profusely, and was _very_ surprised when he kissed me back. One thing led to another, and so on and so forth. And that is why I can have conceived a child with your brother, but not know him at all." I dropped my head, the shame that had started to fade over time coming back to me full force. 

Elrohir left his chair to seat himself beside me on my bed, and pulled me into a chaste embrace. He held me for only a few moments, then pulled back to look at me.

"And that is as good a reason as there can be," he replied. "So let me assure you myself that Estel is not evil. Since you have no way of knowing for yourself, I must tell you, for I _do_ know him. He is not, nor will he ever be evil. He traveled with the fellowship, with the Ring of Power within his grasp for the taking, and even with Isildur's blood flowing within his body, and probably tempted beyond belief, he did not take it. He risked all for the love of my sister, for my father would not allow him to claim her hand in marriage until he could rightfully take the throne of Gondor. Yet he is human, as are you. Mistakes are made by all of us, but evil we are not necessarily. He has much strength and power, and does not hesitate to use either; perhaps that is what you fear, consciously or not. What was the evil thing he did in the dream that frightened you so?" 

"He _did nothing," I exclaimed, near to tears again, reminding myself of the dream once more. "It was the things he was declaring to me. 'Have not a girl child; I will have her beheaded for the sin of being born female.' 'My son will be locked away so no one will know of his sin of being a bastard. He will be with me always, and you, Maeren, shall not see him for the rest of your life.' It was those sorts of things he was saying. In my mind I know he would not behead a daughter, nor lock away a son. But he has the power to keep _me_ away, Elrohir. He could do that, if he so chose." _

Elrohir laughed lightly—not at me, fortunately for him, or he would have been picking himself up off the floor. 

"I laugh thinking of Estel trying to defend himself from all the Elves of Imladris, Maeren, for the image is a funny one," Elrohir stated. "Father, Arwen, Elladan and me—we all know you already, and would never allow him to do such a thing, even were he to wish it; which I can assure you, he never would do. Can you imagine Haldan, standing with Estel on one side of him, and you and the baby on the other? Can you not see his face and hear his words, telling Estel that the baby is yours, and that he is to keep his stinking human hands off of the child? That in itself would be an hysterical sight! Do you not think so?" 

I began to chuckle at the imagined picture Elrohir had painted in my mind. It was indeed hysterical! Haldan, with his angelic features pulled into such a frowning scowl, and his silver hair mussed about his head like bolts of lightning. I chuckled again at the thought of it. 

"That is much better," Elrohir proclaimed at my smile. "Estel is an honorable man, you may take my word for it. You may think me prejudiced, and I may be; but most Elves dislike telling falsehoods—well, falsehoods of any magnitude; so you can believe me when I tell you that Estel will do right by you and the child. Has he not shown good faith so far?" 

"Yes," I agreed. "He has. But he has also shown that he will run my life if I allow it." 

"And you hold the key within the words you just spoke," he told me. 

"If I allow it," I repeated. "It is as simple as that? I simply must defy him?" 

"I did not say it would be simple," he admitted. "Estel is anything but meek, and stubborn he is to a fault. However, if your arguments are sound, and you have others on your side to help you work on him, you can win the day. That would probably be the secret to seeing your way done—having others on your side. I am sure that probably abrades at your sense of independence, but one of my mottos has always been, 'whatever works'. Not always the most honorable thing, but effective, if I am determined to have my own way." 

I laughed. Elrohir could always make me laugh. But then I frowned, for the pain in my lower left side was stabbing me again, and the nausea that had been playing around my gut since I had awoken from that nightmare was beginning to rear its ugly head in earnest. Elrohir began to frown as well, for he noticed my discomfort. 

"The pain is excruciating again?" he asked weakly. I could tell he may have studied the healing arts somewhat with his Father, but his heart had not been in the lesson very much. He looked at me as if he feared I may be contagious—even though Elves did not take sick like humans did. 

"Yes," I whispered. "Elrohir," I said a bit louder, "hand me the chamber pot that is near your feet, and if the sound of retching bothers you, you had best make yourself scarce." 

I would have laughed at his speed in complying with my demands, but I felt too sick at the moment. He had the pot in my hands, and was out the door before I began heaving, which was quickly indeed. 

As soon as I had rid my stomach of what seemed to be nothing but pure water, I rose and cleaned everything up—including myself. The pain was now excruciating, and I prayed to the Valar to let the stone move—and please let it move quickly. I put myself back into bed, lying down on my side, and I brought my legs up to my body, rolling up into a ball as much as my baby would allow me to. I drew the covers up to my chin. I was not chilled, but needed the comfort—the feeling that someone was holding me, or that I was snuggled in a cocoon. I tried not to, but I could not help it, and I started to weep. The pain was so great; I could not hold back the tears any longer. 

I had not heard anyone enter, but suddenly Haldan was there, sitting beside me on the bed. He was soaking a cloth in cool, minted water, and he wrung it out, then began running it over my face. It felt so good, and I was so grateful for the comfort, it made me weep more. 

"There, there, sweet lady," he crooned, "no need for tears. Haldan is with you. He will hold your hand until the pain eases. In fact, I believe I will fetch Elladan, since Elrohir is such a baby when it comes to illness. Give him a wound with lots of blood and gore, and he is a trooper, but illness he cannot abide. Elladan can help me to give you a bit of Elven healing. You would like that. I know that you would. It would ease that pain very much—at least as long as we could keep it going." Haldan rose from the bed, but spoke once more. "I will return very soon, Maeren. I am merely going to find Elladan, and we will demonstrate for you the art of laying our Elven hands on you to ease your pain. I am sure you will find it not only a relief, but very intriguing as well." 

Haldan left, but through my agony I could not really say how long he was gone. It seemed an eternity, for it felt as if time stood still. All I was aware of was this unremitting pain, slicing through my left side, and leaving me breathless and wishing to die. I only wanted it to cease. That was all I could think of. 

The next thing I became aware of was two people sitting on the bed, one on either side of me. I assumed it was Elladan and Haldan, but I did not move, nor open my eyes to find out. All I could do was lie there and quiver with the pain—and weep quietly. The Elves gently rolled me over so that I lay on my back, and they uncovered me from my nest in the coverlet. I wanted to protest at being unrolled from the ball, because the pain stabbed even worse when they made me extend myself, and I finally did cry out with the pain of it, when I could not stand it any longer. 

But the minute they had me extended fully onto the bed, they both placed their hands upon my left side, asking me if that was where the pain was the worst. I guided their hands downward a bit further until I had them in exactly the right place, and the Elves then closed their eyes, telling me first to relax and clear my mind. I felt that wonderful 'tingle' I had felt when Elladan had helped me that very first time; when he had caused me to bump my head on the tree limb, raising a huge lump on the back of my head. I thought back to the nightmare I'd had on the journey here, of the fire in the stables that killed my family all over again; and how Elladan had placed his hands on my head and over my eyes, and had put me into a peaceful sleep. I was feeling that tingle and that peacefulness now. _Thank Eru for Elves!_

"Maeren," Haldan said slowly and dreamily, "relax, breathe deeply, and try to sleep. We cannot keep this up indefinitely, and it only masks your pain. If you allow us to put you to sleep this way, you could sleep peacefully for a few hours, so please clear your mind of all things, breathe deeply, and sleep—Haldan wishes for you to sleep. Elladan wishes for you to sleep. Sleep." 

_My last conscious thought was, again, Thank Eru for sweet Elves. _

                           ~ * ~

When next I woke, it was evening, and the last rays of the sun were casting shades of pink against the far walls of the room. I was no longer in pain, but I felt as if I would wet the bed if I stayed lying down another second. I was alone, so I threw off the coverlet, and rose, hurrying into the bathing room to use the facilities within the room in there. 

I wanted to laugh with glee when I heard Haldan's audible 'clink' into the chamber pot as I relieved myself, of more than just the 'tinkle' I had thought to leave. _Thank the Valar that was over! I took myself back to my bed, propping the pillows against the headboard. I climbed in and settled back, happy for once this day. I sat there basking in the fact that I was stone free, and pain free as well. At this point in my life, nothing could make me any happier than that small bit of news. _

My eyebrows lifted with interest when my door opened a crack revealing an eye of someone obviously checking on me. When they saw that I was awake, they belatedly knocked, and I bid them to enter. It was Elladan, or what was left of him. My cheery mood was quick to vanish. 

"You look much better—" he started to say. 

"You look terrible!" I exclaimed before he had a chance to finish his sentence. 

"I am fine," he said as he tried to placate me. "Only a bit tired. I just had a bite to eat, and was retiring for the night, but wanted to see how you were faring. Seeing your bright smile—before you laid eyes on me—made me wonder; I would not dare to hope the dreaded stone has passed?" 

"Yes," I answered him quickly, "it has passed. Now, why do you look as if you have not slept for fifty years?" Then it suddenly hit me. I vaguely remembered something Haldan had said_—we cannot keep this up indefinitely—_was one of the remarks he had made. Was this what his use of his Elven healing on me had cost him? If so, the price had been too high. 

"Maeren," he replied a bit testily, "I told you I am fine—just a little tired." 

"A_ little tired, Elladan?" I insisted. "You are more than a little tired. You are exhausted. Were you able to walk from this room under your own power after I slept? How is Haldan? Is he well?" _

"Haldan is also fine," Elladan said, beginning to sound genuinely angry at this point. "He and I shared a light meal, then he retired, and I am going to do likewise. And since I obviously am getting nothing but grief from you, I believe I will go now." He turned around, and headed back to the door. 

"Elladan wait," I said, remembering I had not even thanked him for expending so much energy on my behalf. I uncovered myself, and rose from the bed. I went over to him, and took his hands in mine. 

"I am sorry for sounding so ungrateful," I said with regret, "but it is not the usual turn of events when I am the one on the receiving end of someone's efforts, and those efforts have obviously come at great cost to the one who has expended them on my account. You have no idea the pain you helped me escape from—no idea at all. I cannot begin to thank you enough for that. But the guilt I feel when I look at your face! You must promise me to never do such a thing again, no matter how much pain I am in!" 

"I will not promise such a thing," he declared. "Ever! If it is within my power to ease you—or anyone else I care about—I will do it. I can regain my energy with some time asleep. Tis a small price to pay. There is no damage done to me that a few hours rest cannot put to rights; to make such a promise is absurd, and I will not do it. Not for you or for anyone else. You calm yourself down. Patience I am in short supply of at present. I'll not order you back to bed or any such nonsense; I've learned my lesson as far as trying to manage your life. Now you afford me the same courtesy, please." 

I smiled at his reprimand, but did indeed drop his hands, and go back and get into my bed. 

"Very well," I agreed. "You win. I will not try to manage your life either." As soon as I was in the bed and covered, I patted the mattress, silently inviting him to sit beside me. 

"Just for a few moments, before you sleep?" I asked in invitation. He walked slowly to me and sat down. "Thank you." I smiled at him. "You really do not understand what your healing did for me, Elladan. I thought I would die from that pain. Truly, I did. Even the pain of childbirth, I do not believe, was as bad as that was. Perhaps it was because the prize at the end of the labor was not as grand a one, though I am not sure." 

He smiled that killer smile of his finally, coming out of his snit, thanks be. I really had not meant to make him angry. I simply worried about him, that was all. His white face made the darkness beneath his eyes all the more startling when I first beheld him, and he had looked ill. Elves are not supposed to look ill, and he had, and that had frightened me. More than I cared to admit, I wanted nothing to happen to this Elf of mine, for any reason, let alone because of something he had done to help me. I didn't stop to wonder the why of my feelings, I simply felt. That was my way. I noticed his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to touch my cheek. 

"You, lady healer, are impossible," he said. "Yet I am very glad your trial is over, even if the prize was a poor one." 

"I, too, am glad it is over," I said with relief, "and, Valar willing, I will never by tried in such a way ever again. Now, Elladan, at the risk of seeming to manage your life, I did ask for only a few moments, and you have fulfilled that time. I will hold you no longer. Please, go now and get some sleep." 

"Very well," he agreed. "You have twisted my arm. I cannot control your iron will, so I must do as you demand." Before he rose, he planted both of his hands on the bed to either side of me. He leaned in and kissed me very tenderly, yet thoroughly, until my blood was begging for more. But I knew I had not the strength or the will to continue in this vein, and I doubted if it even crossed the Elf's mind at all. However, I was wrong about that. 

"Maeren," he asked after he'd pulled an inch or two away, "how am I to stay away from you? Your pull on me is as a flower is to a bee; irresistible you are to me." 

"Shh," I soothed him. "Go to sleep, Elladan. Think of nothing else tonight. Go climb into your bed and dream sweet Elven dreams. Things other than me. Things that make you happy; places you like to be. Go now and sleep. Dream sweetly. Good night." 

He smiled widely and kissed my nose. He sat up straight and yawned, covering his mouth, then he chuckled and apologized for being so rude. Then he got up, walked to the door, and gave me a little wave as he left. 

I stared after him for a few minutes, hoping he did sleep well and deeply. Elrohir had explained to me once all about the way of Elven sleep; how they really sort of 'daydreamed'. They were in more of a trance-like state than in one unaware. Unless they were wounded or extremely tired, did they truly sleep like we mere mortals did—with eyes closed and deepened breathing. Tonight I hoped that Elladan slept like I planned to—dreamlessly and completely unconscious—until dawn if at all possible. 

                            ~ * ~

How did I come to be in the Wards in Minas Tirith? Wasn't I in Imladris with the Elves? I certainly preferred the Elven haven. It was much quieter, it smelled better, there were far fewer headaches, so fewer complaints—and I speak not of the patients, either, I speak of the staff. And the wounded! Where were they all coming from? 

There was so much blood, and the agonized screams and crying of the poor soldiers made me want to weep, for try as I might, I could not get to them all. I was not alone; there were a few aides helping me, but most of the others just stood there with stony countenances, unwilling to budge and complaining over some silly thing or other. I screamed at them to look around them, see what needed doing, but they simply called me demeaning names and walked away. 

So I continued to help those wounded soldiers that I could, having to leave the ones too near death for me to be of any use. I wanted to stay, to hold them till they passed from this world to the next—wherever that may be—but I had not the time; others needed me more. But as I would rise to leave them, they would beg me to stay, and clutch at my apron, pulling me back. I would sit again, torn between duties. Do I ease one gently into death now at this minute, forsaking one to die, who may not die if I tend to him immediately? Or do I forsake this one here, leave him to die alone, and save one who will not die at all, if I but go to him now? 

I cannot take it any more. This is a nightmare, and I want out of it. I lived this before, I know I have. Haven't I? I finally tear my apron from the grasp of the dying, who by now is not only dead, but decomposed as well, and I run screaming from the Houses of Healing into the darkness outside. The phantoms chase me, asking me why I forsook them, and I scream again, falling into the dirt of the street. 

Then they catch me. They are holding my arms, and speaking my name. 

_Please let me go, you are scaring me. I simply want to go home. I am afraid. I am not strong. I am weak. I am alone_._ _

Then I am awake. 

It is Elladan holding my arms and speaking my name. As awareness creeps back into my tortured mind, I crumple into his embrace, shaken to the core. To my surprise, I am not weeping. I am, however, trembling like a frightened hare, and Elladan tightens his hold around me. 

He gently rocks me, ever so slightly. "Would you speak of it, Maeren?" he asks. 

I lean back out of his embrace, nodding my head. He lays me back down, covering me once again. I notice he is sitting on the edge of my bed, with only some sort of thin silky sleeping shirt and trousers on. His hair is unbraided and slightly disheveled from sleep. In the moonlight coming in my windows, I can see faint pillow lines indented in the skin of one of his cheeks where it has rested as he slept. He patiently waits for me to tell him of my dream, but now that it comes to it, I cannot do it. 

"I'm still afraid," I whisper. 

"Then think not about it," he says, in a quiet voice, one not unlike a father may use trying to soothe his child after a nightmare. One of his hands brushes the hair away from my face, and he smiles at me. 

"Will you stay with me, Elladan?" I ask. I know I must seem very childish, but I feel so alone. The dream has left a sense of death all around me, and I need that feeling vanquished from me. I want nothing else from him other than his presence.

"It would make me happy to do so, Maeren," he replies. Then much to my surprise, he walks to the other side of the bed, and slips beneath the covers sliding up beside me. He doesn't touch me, but I can feel his warmth, and I know he is there. 

"Remember I told you Estel often suffered with nightmares as he grew up?" he asks quietly. I can feel the warmth of his breath on the side of my face. It is somehow reassuring. My hair stirs slightly as he continues. "Estel would often make the same request of either Father or Elrohir or I that you just have, and this is what we would do." He doesn't say anything else. 

After several minutes, I say, "Thank you, Elladan." 

I hear him chuckle gently, and then he replies, "It is my immense pleasure, lady healer." 

                           ~ * ~


	32. Remorse and Reminders

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Sometime during the night Elladan had gone back to his own bed I assume. He was no longer with me when I awoke the next morning. I was thankful for that. Just as he said he was drawn to me, I was likewise drawn to him, and temptation only made things worse. I would inevitably give in to my carnal nature, and then let guilt eat at me. It was just as well that the temptation had removed himself from my bed this morning.

Before I rose, however, Haldan knocked briefly and entered, ere I had a chance to answer him. I wondered at his urgency, but since it was Haldan, I didn't have to wait long for an explanation.

"Good morning, my dear," he greeted me warmly. "I understand from Elladan that congratulations are in order."

"Yes," I said, dipping my head in a pretend bow, "I accept your congratulations with humbleness. Twas nothing, my dear healer. Nothing at all."

"I beg to differ with you, my lady," he said haughtily. "The pain you were in was something indeed."

"Yes," I agreed, "and if last evening you resembled Elladan at all, as weak as he was, you deserve the same tongue lashing that I served to him."

"Now is that any way to show your appreciation for our skillful demonstration of the fine art of Elven healing?" he asked with a grin. "I find I am much put off by your attitude this morning. I may just go back to my sick rooms and pout the day away."

I laughed at him and threw the covers off of myself. I hurried over to him and put my arms around his neck, giving him a sound kiss on the cheek.

"Not before I thank you profusely for taking that horrible pain away and putting me to sleep," I said sincerely. I stepped back from him some and continued, "I thought I was dying, that pain was so severe. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Haldan, for helping me to bear it. I am not sure I would have been able to, had the two of you not intervened."

"Pish posh," he demurred, "twas nothing any true Elven healers would not have done in our place. It was our most humble pleasure to help you, my dear." Haldan smiled, then a cloud of uncertainty moved over his features. "Maeren, if you have the time, I have something I would like to speak to you about, and it is rather important to me that I say it."

"May I take a few minutes to dress first?" I asked him. "It won't take me long—really."

"I mind not waiting," he said, and he wandered out to the veranda.

I busied myself and was dressed, washed and combed in no time at all. In the meantime, Nivia had come and gone, bringing me a tray of sliced fruit, with sweet rolls and juice. Haldan was seated at the table on the veranda where Nivia had left the breakfast. It must have been Haldan's idea, because there were plates and cutlery enough for two—as well as enough food for both of us. The Elf was helping himself to some of the fruit as I sat down.

"I hope you don't mind sharing," he said, "but I find myself still a bit on the ravenous side. Those healing sessions tend to do that to me, you know." I smiled as I helped myself to some of the fruit and pastry.

"Maeren," Haldan said quietly, "I hesitate to bring this up to you, because technically, it is none of my business."

I was beginning to feel just the least bit uneasy about this conversation. Haldan's mood had changed from his usual 'bubbly' one, to one I had never seen before. _He was being serious, for Valar's sake!_

"Then perhaps you shouldn't," I replied.

"I was afraid you may feel that way," he said. "However, even though it is technically none of my business, in my heart, I feel that it is personally my business." He looked down at his plate for a moment, then back up at me. I could see trepidation—and determination—in those beautiful crystal eyes of his. "I have been here in Imladris for over three millennia. I saw the twins born, and I watched them grown up—that's how I have the cheek to call Elladan 'Elf-boy'. He and Elrohir are merely children, you know. Elrond took me in when I was forty-four—that is not quite a young child, but still not quite to one's majority, you know. I was alone, with no kin and no place to call home. He taught me all I know of the healing arts. I owe him everything, Maeren. Absolutely everything. With all of that said, I now have a question I must ask you. Do you know that Elrond is what is known as a Peredhil?"

"Yes, Haldan, I know that," I answered. "And I know all which that entails."

"So you know then," Haldan continued, "that Arwen made the choice to abandon her life as an Elf, in order to marry Estel, and that Elrohir and Elladan will someday have to make that same choice?"

I felt a coldness wash through my heart. Why had that not occurred to me before? Of course that was true! I had to have known Elladan was going to have to make a decision concerning his immortality. Why had I been allowing him to get so close to me?

"Now that you mention it to me, Haldan," I admitted, "I suppose on some level, I must have known. But until now, when you said it out loud, I had not given it a thought. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. It changes things for me. It really does."

"Does it, Maeren?" Haldan asked. "The reason I brought it up is exactly for the reason I told you; I owe everything to Elrond, and it is for him that I am concerned." Haldan took a bite out of his sweet roll, chewed for a few minutes and swallowed, and then continued.

"When Estel made his intentions toward Arwen known to Elrond, all Mandos broke loose around here. The tension was so thick, swords could have cut through it. Elrond made the conditions known to Estel under which he would be willing to grant his permission for their marriage. And let me tell you—the stipulations were steep. Then Elrond bided his time, as Elves will, seeming not to think of that which clouded his mind night and day."

"However, I was watching Elrond as time went on, as the fellowship made its way to Mordor, then as the war was inevitable, and finally after the free peoples of Middle Earth won the day. The view has been heartrending. The time for Arwen to be gone from him was drawing closer, and each day you could see his heart break open just a fraction wider. I want not to watch it again. Call me selfish, but it was breaking my heart to witness his heart breaking. So when I saw that Elladan was losing his heart to yours, I panicked. I knew I had to speak to you, and _at least _make you aware of the situation as it stands with Elrond. I hope you can understand my interference and forgive my trespass into your concerns."

"You do not truly believe what you are saying," I wondered aloud to him, "when you tell me that Elladan is losing his heart to me? We are very attracted to one another, that is true; but Elladan being in love with me? You do not believe it has gone that far—do you?"

"If I were a wagering Elf, Maeren," Haldan said ruefully, his expression grim, "I would wager it all. He, of course, has not confided his heart to me, but remember; I have lived here for a very long time, and I have known that young Elf all of his life. I do not believe I am wrong about this."

"Oh no," I breathed. "I will not be the cause of Elrond losing another child this way—I won't, Haldan! He and I have spoken at length about Arwen's decision, and his despair was a tangible thing. I cannot be responsible for doing that to him yet again. Somehow, Haldan, I will make Elladan see how wrong we are for each other, if indeed it has gone that far for him."

"And what about you, Maeren?" Haldan asked me. "If I could be mannerless and ask; how is it for you? Are you in love with Elladan?"

"No, Haldan," I replied honestly. "I like him extremely well, but I don't think I am capable of that kind of love any more. Attracted to him? Yes! And a thousand times, yes! But in love with him? I do not think so. I loved my Dustin so well, it still takes my breath away when I think of him."

"And the smile on your face tells all," Haldan said with a grin. The smile on the Elf's face faded slowly. "Elladan will hate me when he learns that I have spoken to you, and he has every right to. I thank Eru that I was never given such a choice as the members of this family have had to make. It seems as if it would be so clear and easily decided; but inevitably, some wonderful Human wades into the pool and muddies the water. It is a shame. There is no finer man than Estel—in all of Arda. I hated him at one point—just looking into Elrond's tortured eyes enraged me. Yet all the man did was dare to love the daughter of a Peredhil. And all she did was dare to love him in return."

"Perhaps Elladan does not love me as you fear," I said, trying to console him—and trying to lessen my guilt while I was at it. "As far as I have been concerned, we have been but very good friends—and perhaps lovers if circumstances were ever to cooperate. I suppose it has been a good thing that circumstances have been what they have been—the closer we may have become, the easier it would have been for Elladan to perhaps think himself in love. My father often told me that things happen for a reason. Perhaps he was more right than I ever gave him credit for."

"Perhaps he was," Haldan echoed my words. His eyes were filled with tears, and his voice grew tremulous. "You know not how it hurts me to say these things to you, for who am I to decide who should love who? But I would be remiss in my love for a friend, did I not look out for the welfare of Elrond as well. You do see that, Maeren, do you not?" As he finished his sentence, tears began escaping his eyes and hurried down his face. It seemed a travesty that they even be there at all. Haldan's face was that of an angel—meant for happiness—never sorrow. I rose from my chair and went to him, making him rise, and embracing him.

"Weep not, Haldan," I demanded. "All will be well. You did exactly the right thing. I hope I would have remembered Elladan's choice in time, but there is no guarantee that I would have. I have been successfully pushing it out of my mind quite well, do you not think so? Elladan may not be glad for your 'interference', as you put it, but I certainly am glad for it. I will not be a party to Elrond losing another child in this way; I promise you! Whichever choice Elladan makes as to his immortality or— mortality—I will not be a part of it. You have my word."

Haldan did not answer me. He sobbed and held me tighter. I could not abide this Elf's tears. I decided, finally, that he must not weep very often and was merely overwrought. Perhaps it was another byproduct of his overtaxing himself with his use of his Elven healing on me yesterday evening.

"Haldan," I whined, "you must cease this! I want not to cry, and I will be weeping in sympathy soon if you continue."

He finally drew back from me, pulling a hanky from the sleeve of his robe. He wiped at his eyes and nose, sniffing loudly.

"I am sorry, dear Maeren," he said shakily. "I know not what got into me. I have not wept in centuries, I do not believe. I suddenly was overwhelmed with emotion. It took me quite by surprise. You must swear not to tell the Elf-boy, or he will tease me to no end."

"Oh I will tell no one," I proclaimed with a smile. "Do you suppose that overtaxing yourself last night may be a factor?"

"Who knows?" he asked. "Could be. I believe I will go back to my bed. Eru knows I could use a nap. I must be getting old, if this is how a little 'laying on of hands' affects me these days." Haldan started for the door, then stopped and turned back to face me as he thought of something else he wished to say. "Maeren, if Elladan were to give up his immortality for anyone, it would be worth it only for you."

And with that, he left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I wanted not to do it—but had no good reason to avoid—dining with the others tonight. After my conversation with Haldan, I wanted to lock myself in my room and never emerge, if it would keep Elladan away from me. It was really very upsetting, because I liked him so much—and I wanted him so badly. Whoever said that life was unfair, really made an understatement, as far as I was concerned.

Nivia was her usual talkative self, and she asked me several times if I was well, since I was not my usual gabby one. I assured her I was fine, just missing my family and home back in Rohan—which was not a lie. _It just wasn't the entire truth_. She did me up royally again, and I did not protest; which convinced her anew that she should send for Haldan, as I really must be sick if I wasn't complaining about how she was fixing my hair. I assured her again that I was merely still tired from my trial of yesterday, and she finally accepted that as a legitimate reason for my lethargy.

The others at evening meal also noticed my reticence, and I used the same excuses on them. They also seemed to buy them, of which I was thankful, because I could not think of any others. I am a notoriously poor liar. I suppose that comes from watching my brothers get their mouths washed out with soap when my mother caught them lying. I wanted not the same treatment, so would never risk the punishment by committing the sin. I suppose that makes me a coward as well. 

_Did I mention Haldan's visit had left me a bit on the melancholy side?_

"How many go with you, Elrohir?" I heard Glorfindel ask. I must have been daydreaming. I did not know what they were speaking about.

"Not many," he answered. "Who did we ask, Brother? Ormenel, Ethring and Ramdal will accompany us. Why do you not come with us? It would be like old times?"

Glorfindel laughed a short laugh. "I would love to, young one, but Elrond would not take kindly to having me abandon Imladris, to come and play nursemaid to him."

"If that is what he would think," Elladan joined in, "then why are we going? Are we not just nursemaids, as well?"

"No, Elladan," Glorfindel said as he let out his breath. "You, my young friends, are the bandages your father needs to place over the wounds in his heart."

They all three fell silent, and I wanted to flee; but I kept my seat. I knew that running would not solve anything, nor would it even make me feel better. Elrond was obviously on his way home, and the twins were going out to meet him. I wondered how long it would be before the Elf lord would arrive in Imladris. I suppose I would find out soon enough.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The following morning I rose early. I had not slept well the night before; worry always affects me in that fashion. Try as I might, I could not get this dread over Elladan maybe being in love with me to leave my heart. I knew not whether to approach him about it, or to let it ride and simply avoid him, and let him know in no uncertain terms that things would no longer be the same between us. He would want to know why, and I would tell him, leaving out Haldan's part in it, of course. I could always tell him I remembered it on my own. I would have, I am certain—eventually. I think.

I started walking the grounds, when the pink of dawn was barely tinting the sky of the valley. I had not intended to see the group off, but I found myself at the stables where the horses were being readied for the Elves to depart to meet the Lord of Imladris—wherever he may be.

"Good morning, my lady," Glorfindel called as he saw me. "You are up early today."

"I usually rise early," I replied. "I must have finally caught up on my rest." He did not know I was lying, and it was only half of a fib. I was an early riser by nature. " Is Elrond still in the White City? Do the others join him there and escort him the entire distance?"

"No, my lady, they do not," Glorfindel answered. "Elrond sent the messenger when he departed Lothlorien; he is only about a week away now."

"I see," I replied.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and smiled. "You seem a bit anxious, but I cannot tell if it is a good state or a bad one. If you don't mind my asking, on what sort of terms did the two of you part?"

"I mind not the question," I said, smiling. "We parted with what I would call a 'friendly truce'. However, our relationship was not all hugs and kisses, you can believe me. Your lord is quite formidable when angry, I found that out in an extremely terrifying fashion."

"Sounds like a intriguing story," Glorfindel said, with one of those mischievous Elven grins I was coming to associate with all Elves—and not merely Elrohir—on his face. "Maybe one day I could get enough wine in you to reveal it to me?"

"That is probably what it would take, my lord," I said with a laugh.

"Maeren, what are you doing up at this wee hour?" Elrohir asked me as he gave me a quick hug from behind. "You should be sleeping, sick as you've been. Tsk, tsk, tsk, what to do with errant Human women?"

I gave Elrohir a look that I hope conveyed to him he was perilously close to being cuffed in the jaw for insulting me. I wanted the assault to not come as a shock to him. When he glanced at my face he took a quick step back, and I smiled, not able to hold the deep scowl I'd made at his words.

"Looks like rain, with thunder and lightning!" he said, describing the look I had given him before he'd begun teasing me.

I had to laugh at him then. "Oh good! A chance for the sun to come out then!" he altered his forecast.

"Elrohir, stop!" I begged. "I'm smiling. My humor is good. I won't frown anymore—right now at any rate."

"Who snuck the skunk beneath your skirts this fine morn, my lady friend?" Elrohir wanted to know.

"No one did, Elrohir," I replied as I laughed, "I simply resent it when Elves with weak stomachs presume to tell me when I am cured of my ills, that is all."

"Weak stomachs?" he asked, almost sputtering with simulated outrage. "Wherever did you get such an idea about someone as stouthearted as I?"

"Let me see," I said, my face taking on a faraway look, as if I was trying to recall a time not so distant in which he showed his true colors. "Ah yes, now I remember. It was day before yesterday, if I am recalling correctly. I was sick abed, when I had the sudden urge to retch my guts up." I was watching Elrohir's face carefully. I imagined the mere mention of the activity, which filled him with dread, would be enough to unsettle him. And I was right. He looked sick indeed. "The bile was rising, and I began with the cold sweat—"

"Maeren," Elrohir said, "it isn't funny—" Glorfindel was starting to laugh. I wasn't sure if he knew Elrohir had a weak stomach for this malady, or he thought me insane, but I was having too much fun to care at the moment.

"I distinctly remember having to ask you for the chamber pot," I continued, "and I almost did not get the word out of my mouth before—" I did not bother to continue because Elrohir walked away, and I began laughing. Poor Elrohir. I felt badly. Well, I would feel badly. Maybe. Someday.

The others of the party were gathering around now, so it appeared it was time for them to depart. Elladan was still nowhere to be seen. Glorfindel called to Elrohir, but Elrohir seemed to read the older Elf's mind, because he gave a shout that he was going to find his brother, then headed inside. The other Elves busied themselves checking their gear, packing saddlebags, and generally clowning around with each other. They made me smile. There is something about Elves—even thousand years old ones—that reminds one of children. I am not saying that they act childish; that is not what I mean. Perhaps it is childlike—playful. Yes, I believe that must be it.

It was only a few minutes later when Elrohir and Elladan emerged from the house. Elladan apologized for his lateness, but did not explain himself to anyone. He packed his things on his horse, checked the tack, and then led the beast by the rein over to me.

"I was looking for you," he whispered with a smile. "I didn't realize you had planned to come and see me off this morning."

"I had not planned to, actually," I said. "I rose early and began walking and ended up here."

"Likely story," he said very quietly, and he leaned in to kiss me. I turned my face away, just in time to present my cheek to him instead of my lips. He frowned at me, an unasked question in his eyes, but said nothing, and we really hadn't the time to discuss it, thanks be. The others were already mounted and had kicked up their horses to a fast canter. He leapt up onto the back of his horse, gave me a wave and was off. He didn't look back.

_I wish my worry had ridden away with him. But it had not._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

Elrond rode into Imladris with his entourage a week later looking every inch the Elven warrior that he was. Gone were the flowing robes and rich velvet tunics in which I had seen him when I had been graciously gifted with his presence in Minas Tirith. He wore the same serviceable tunics and leggings as did his sons and the others that had gone to fetch him home. His hair wasn't braided in that elaborate manner I had come to associate with him while I had been in the White City. No, it was again worn in the same fashion as that of the others—quite plainly—as far as Elven hair could ever be called plain. However, even without the blood and muck with which a warrior returning from battle would have been ordinarily adorned, Elrond did indeed appear to be battle worn.

While the twins were away, I used the time to explore the house. It was with skepticism that I found that Elrond had been a warrior at one time, but there was no arguing with the murals that I found adorning a few of the walls of the house. There he had been depicted in battle scenes from the Last Alliance, and he figured quite prominently. Elrohir would be pleased when he discovered that I had found a likeness of Gil-Galad. I now had a face to go with the name of their Elven High King. The same High King whose dagger I had been carrying unknowingly.

I enlisted the aid of Nivia one afternoon, after I'd found the first of the murals, and she told me the story of the Last Alliance—from the Elven point of view. I had of course known all about it from my history lessons; however, I now knew that the part the Elves had played in that great battle had been grossly understated by those who had instructed me. Nivia pointed out the key players to me—or at least the key players I could not identify. I could, of course, pick out Elrond and Glorfindel. I was shocked to see Erestor there as well. He must have a story I would be surprised to know. Perhaps it would explain some of his rancor.

The arrival of the Lord of Imladris had me somewhat in a quandary. I was uncertain as to what was expected of me. Should I go down to greet the returning party, or wait till they'd had a chance to rest and bathe and greet them at evening meal? It seemed that the whole of Imladris was turning out to greet their lord, so I decided I should probably do likewise. I was taking a glance in the mirror of the dressing table, when Nivia came running into the room and took the decision from me.

"Come on, Maeren," she said breathlessly, "Lord Elrond is back!" The smile on her face was radiant. It made me wonder if perhaps she bore a secret love for the highborn Elf. I decided to watch, and perhaps learn.

"I'm coming!" I said, which was a silly reply, seeing as how she had me by the hand and was towing me down the stairs. I had to pull my hand from her grasp finally. She was going too fast for me. My almost six-months-along child-to-be poked out from my body just enough to obscure the stairs somewhat, and I wished to be more careful than she was being. She looked back briefly, but seeing that I was coming along, she continued on her way.

Most of the other residents of Imladris—those who did not reside directly in the house—greeted the Elf lord, and those returning with him, as he rode up the pathway to the stables. I had feared that I would be in the way, but thankfully, that was not the case. There was only the small group of Glorfindel, Erestor, Haldan, Nivia and I who greeted the riders as they stopped at the courtyard just outside the stables. I was suddenly very nervous to be seeing Elrond again. I wondered if he remembered we were on friendly terms. I certainly hoped so. He was so intimidating an Elf when he was angry.

There were hugs given all around between those who had not seen each other in quite some time, and then Elrond came face to face with me. He smiled slowly and took my hands. He looked me up and down.

"You are certainly 'blooming' quite abundantly, Maeren," he said. "I take it you are feeling well?"

"Hello, my lord," I said in greeting. "Yes, I am feeling very well, thank you."

"That is good to hear," he replied. "And Imladris is to your liking and everyone here is treating you well?"

"Imladris is a wonderful place," I said with true appreciation. "And the Elves could not be a better people, my lord."

"Reports such as this are very satisfying," he declared. Turning to the others, he commanded, "Let's go in." He walked on past me, intent on doing just as he had directed.

Elves began scurrying like ants, some taking charge of the horses that were just ridden in, while others were taking charge of wagons that were just now pulling up to the stable doors. I wondered if perhaps some of my things were on the wagons that were being unloaded even as I stood there. Elladan hooked his arm into mine, whipping me around quickly back toward the house. I fell into step easily beside him.

"Greetings, Maeren," he exclaimed. "Miss me?"

"You were gone?" I asked as if surprised.

He looked at me as if in warning, and ordinarily, I would have led him on a merry chase, but my condition precluded such a thing, and I really did not think playfulness was the proper thing to make Elladan believe I wanted not his attentions any more. So I did not flee him, I shrugged my shoulders and laughed.

Elrohir trotted up beside me, scaring me half to death as he threw an arm around my waist, giving me a hug.

"Well met, Maeren," he said, giving me a small kiss on the cheek. "You look beautiful today. Being with child is beginning to agree with you, I think."

It suddenly became apparent that he had been carefully waiting until everyone else had gone inside the house. I noticed that we were alone outside. He apparently wanted to speak to Elladan and me privately.

"Brother," Elrohir said with urgency, "you need to be more discreet now that Father is home."

"What are you talking about Elrohir?" Elladan wanted to know, more than a little put out. It also was more than apparent that he knew exactly what his brother was speaking about—as did I.

"You know what I mean," Elrohir returned. "After what Father has just been through with Arwen and Estel, the last thing he needs is to worry about you doing the exact same thing all over again."

"Elrohir," Elladan soothed, "Maeren and I simply have a little dalliance going; we are not planning to bind ourselves to one another. What is the harm in that?"

"Would that it were a simple dalliance, Brother," Elrohir replied. "But by the look on your face when you gaze at the lady, I am not so sure!"

"Elrohir," Elladan said crossly, "go find someone else's business to mind! I find I am sick of you minding mine. There is nothing between Maeren and I but some simple sensual pleasure—if we could get people to mind their own business and leave us alone about it!"

And with that, Elladan flung open the door to the house, and stalked in, leaving Elrohir and me alone by the exterior wall, just outside the door leading into the house.

I walked a short distance away, dropping my face into my hands in embarrassment. Elrohir came up behind me and hugged me gently. I lay my head back on his shoulder.

"I am sorry about that, Maeren," he said softly. "I hated to embarrass you, but I needed to confront Elladan. My father has been through much these past few months, and I had hoped to relieve my worry. Alas, I have only increased it."

"I am sorry, too, Elrohir," I replied. "I am guilty of allowing 'things' to occur which should not have; I was stupid, and I did not think about the fact that, like Arwen, the two of you also have a choice to make in regard to your immortality. I am very sorry about that. I never meant to lead him on, or let things go beyond a 'dalliance', as you have been calling it. I, for my part, am not in love with him—which I know does not make this any better. In some ways it is even worse! If he fancies himself in love with me—which I do not know for sure that he does—what would he be giving his life up for, if I love him not in return? Eru, what a mess I have made!"

Elrohir turned me around in his arms and held me by the shoulders. He was smiling at me.

"Do not blame yourself, Maeren," Elrohir said. "If I know Elladan, you both started this with the same rules. I believe, if he is now in love with you, it is he who has broken them. You are not the only one who has the use of a brain, at least I do not think you are. He is usually a very bright Elf, and I am sure he will come around. He and my father are very close—much more so than my father and I are. Elladan will not want to hurt him for any reason. I believe he would even sacrifice his own heart for my father, after what he has been through with Arwen and Estel. Worry not, my father will not blame you if—"

"That is where you are completely wrong, Elrohir," I interrupted him. "I thought your father was going to kill me—and I mean literally kill me—one day when I met with Aragorn and Arwen in the Citadel. He was so very angry at me for not disclosing my condition to them before the marriage took place; when Arwen still had the chance to forgo the union. I am supposing she still had not bound herself to Aragorn at that time, and could have changed her choice; is that right?"

"I truly know not how it all works," he replied. "It may depend on the consummation of a marriage, but I do not know that for sure."

I closed my eyes, guilt washing over me again, like it was only yesterday, instead of months ago that these things had occurred. It was almost sinful how one person's ignorance could affect so many lives so profoundly.

"And all I can plead is ignorance of the Peredhil, for making such a hideous mistake," I whispered. I patted Elrohir's arms, silently asking for him to release me. I walked a short distance away, and found my legs would no longer support me. I fell to the ground, sobbing hysterically.

All these months I had not given these matters a thought, and now they had come screaming at me at top speed, slamming into my mind, hitting me at full force. How could I have done this again? I was a fool. A stupid, brainless, carnal fool, with no self-control and thoughts only for my own base needs.

Elrohir was beside me instantly, sitting on the ground holding me close.

"No, Maeren," he said softly, "do not torment yourself. Your guilt is not at all what I was hoping to find out here today—or ever, for that matter. I know for a fact that nothing would have dissuaded Arwen from binding herself to Estel—nothing. Remember all that I told you, about Estel being an honorable man? Arwen knows this—has known it since she first met him. Think you she would bind herself to him otherwise? She had too much to lose, Maeren, to take her vows lightly. She knew exactly who she was marrying when she spoke her vows, have no fear of that. I am halfway surprised Estel had not already told her about you, and your night together, as honest as he is. He never could keep a secret." If Elrohir was trying to make me laugh, he did not succeed. I felt as if I would never smile again, much less laugh. "And Elladan knows an honorable woman when he sees one, as well. And one worth loving, too. It's this cursed choice we have that we should never have been given. That is where the blame lies, sweet lady, not with you. Never with you. Please believe that."

Haldan chose just the wrong time to emerge from the house, to find me on the ground in Elrohir's arms. He blanched completely white, thinking some harm must have come to me, and he rushed over to us, the concern on his face almost comical.

"Elrohir!" he exclaimed. "What has happened? Is she ill?"

"No, Haldan," Elrohir answered kindly. "Just overwrought. I think it was something I said."

Haldan pursed his beautiful lips and helped me up carefully. He placed his arms protectively around my waist, as he began to help me go toward the house. He gave Elrohir a look that would have killed a lesser Elf.

"Elrohir," he said venomously. "What possessed you to say whatever it was that bothered her so?"

"I know not, Haldan," Elrohir said apologetically. "Insanity is my only defense."

"Well go insane at someone else's expense next time," Haldan said noxiously. "Maeren, sweetheart, wish you to go to your bed, dear?"

"Yes, Haldan," I answered blandly. I could manage no other words. Elrohir made as if to follow us there, but Haldan put his arm out, pinning it across Elrohir's chest, blocking his path.

"I believe you have done quite enough for one day, thank you very much," he quipped sharply. "I will take it from here."

Poor Elrohir. He had done nothing. If anything, he had made me feel better; yet at the moment, I could not have spoken had my own life depended on it. I would have to apologize to him the next time I saw him. Right now, no coherent words were forming in my mind. All my intellect could come up with at the moment, were thoughts of self-recrimination. Elrohir had tried to absolve me, but he could not—he was not the one I had harmed the most deeply by my actions. I was so mixed up, I knew not what to say or where to turn. I would have to think of this some other time. For now, Haldan had me to my room and led me to my bed. He sat me on the edge of it, removed my shoes, and laid me back, making sure I was comfortable. It was warm, so he asked me if I wanted to be covered. I told him no, so he left the bed made up.

"Has this to do with what we discussed before?" Haldan asked softly. "Elrohir has noticed his brother's notice of you, just as I did, has he not?"

I said nothing, I only nodded, and my tears started down my cheeks again.

"I am sorry for this Maeren," Haldan said. "You deserve so much better than this turmoil. I thought my heart was breaking only for Elrond, but now I find it breaking for you as well."

"Worry not about me, Haldan," I said tremulously. "I will be fine. Being with child makes my emotions act in strange ways, and I weep over some of the smallest of things. I will rest here for the afternoon and be down for evening meal as usual. Have no fear." I smiled a somewhat strange smile, I suppose. I had no way of really knowing, but it felt strange upon my face just the same.

"Call if you need the slightest thing," Haldan made me promise. I made him promise to not check on me another time today. It was hard to get him to do such a thing, but I was finally successful. Reluctantly, he stood, and gave me a small bow, and left.

I was again alone. I so desperately fought it, yet I always ended up that way. So then, was that the answer to all my heartache—I was supposed to be alone?

Perhaps it was. Somehow I found that not surprising to me.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	33. Blushes and Bitterness

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I truly did not want to rise from my bed to ready myself for dining this night, but the repercussions of not doing so far outweighed the momentary safety I would feel snuggled here beneath the coverlet. I would soon be found out, and either Haldan or Elrond or Elladan—or all three, Eru forbid—would find their way in here to check on me as soon as the evening meal was concluded. So reluctantly I rose and called to Nivia, who magically appeared, and drew my bath as I asked of her. I had plenty of time for a good soak, so I took advantage of it and stayed in the tub until the water was tepid and my skin pruned. _I so hate being depressed. _

"Maeren," Nivia commented, "there is something the matter; I know it. You are just not telling me what it is. Perhaps I could help you with your problem. I have a very sensible mind, you know."

"You do have a sensible mind, Nivia," I told her sincerely. "And that is the reason you should have sense enough to not get entangled into the mess I have gotten myself into. No, this is something I must work out for myself." I was again sitting in front of the mirror at the dressing table, while Nivia braided my hair. I had not the heart to continue thwarting her desire to fix my hair as she saw fit. It was such a small thing, and she took such great pleasure in doing it. It was the least I could do for a friend. I had given up this fight—it was not worth the time and trouble it took to debate the issue, and it hurt her feelings when I did.

At the crestfallen look that she gave me at my denial of letting her in on my secret troubles, I added, "Please, Nivia. It hurts my heart to think about it. Make me not dredge it up again, in the telling of it to you."

It seemed that last small snippet of my speech hit home; a sympathetic look crossed her features. She smiled at me in the mirror and continued to braid my hair.

"If you are sure that I cannot be of help," she said, trying one last little time.

"I am sure," I replied, "though I do appreciate your concern."

"Very well," she said. "I am so excited to see Lord Elrond home once again!" Nivia's excitement vibrated down the comb she was using on my hair, digging the teeth into my scalp. "Imladris just is not the same when he is not here; the valley seems sad when he is away."

"Nivia," I said, my curiosity rising, "is there any sort of 'relationship' between you and Elrond? I mean, romantically speaking?"

Nivia's face was a blank for a few seconds as she processed my question. It was as if I had spoken in a foreign language to her, she seemed to study it so long. Realization suddenly dawned on her though, and her mouth opened wide, just as her face began to redden and a blush spread in two directions—up to her hairline, including her beautiful ears and down to the neckline of her dress.

"Maeren!" Nivia exclaimed, the shock in her voice and on her face could not be more pronounced. "Whatever could have made you ask such an impertinent question?"

"I am sorry, Nivia," I stammered. "I meant not to be impertinent. You simply look as if you love him so well, I naturally assumed that perhaps you are '_in love' _with him."

"I will have you know that _that_ would be the height of indecency!" she practically yelled at me. "He is bound in marriage to Celebrian, and even though she has sailed, that makes them no less bound, nor their vows any less valid."

"I said I was sorry, Nivia!" I exclaimed back at her. "I know nothing of Elves; you know that to be true. And simply because someone is married does not mean that another could not hold love for them."

"How well you know that!" she spat back at me.

"I suppose you told me," I said quietly. "Now if you would not mind, I believe I do not need nor want your services any more tonight—nor perhaps at any other time. Now get out!"

"Maeren," Nivia began, more quietly, "I am sorry— "

"Go away, Nivia," I said unkindly. My voice was rising, along with my anger. "And please spread the word—which you are so good at doing anyway—that I will not be down after all. I feel wretched. I want no company; I need no healers. I simply want to be left alone. A-L-O-N-E. I am sick to death of you, and all of your Elven kin. As far as I am concerned, this baby cannot be born soon enough, because I wish to be gone from here _yesterday_. I wish I had never stepped foot outside of Rohan. I wish I had never laid eyes on Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And Eru help me, I wish I had never _heard_ the word Peredhil! Now get out!"

She said no more. She looked stricken. I harbored no illusions that it was the loss of my friendship that she mourned. She feared the repercussions to herself when it was found out that I had removed her from my service. She made her way to the door and left without another word or look to me. _Goodbye and good riddance!_

It had been long since I'd had a good rant—not since I'd railed against Aragorn's directive for Legolas and Gimli to watch me at all times on our journey. In a way it felt _very good. _But in another way, it made me feel even more pathetic. I knew I had probably been deserving of Nivia's ire, if for no other reason than being so inexcusably ill mannered in asking her about a subject so odious in Elven culture—even though I had not known what I asked to be so unacceptable at the time of the asking. I had hoped that the fact that we were supposed to be friends would smooth over any rough areas we may have had between us, but I had obviously been wrong. Right now, I could not have cared any less. She was gone and I was glad. That was what I was caring about at the moment. And that was all I was caring about.

I undid my hair, unraveling all the tiny braids I would never have in my hair again. I changed out of the dress I had donned for the dining hall, getting dressed for sleep instead. I put on a robe; I fully expected that at least Haldan would be paying me a visit before long. I went out onto the veranda and sat at the table, losing myself in thoughts of better times.

_Better times? Perhaps other times would be a more apt description._

I thought of my father and brothers—Valar I hope they all had survived the war! I had never heard one way or another of their fate, and this fact alone was enough to start my weeping again. I rose to retrieve a washcloth from the bathing room, to mop at my face—I felt a flood was imminent.

Instead of returning to the veranda, I turned down my bed and climbed in. I was already weeping and chances were that I would probably just cry myself to sleep, with the mood I was in. I propped myself up somewhat. My nose was starting to stuff and breathing would be easier the more upright I would sit. My mind again took off on its tangent, remembering things that would have been best left alone.

I cursed myself for perhaps the hundredth time for not leaving with Eomer and riding to Edoras, the day I had departed from Minas Tirith to come here to Imladris. He had promised to help me, yet I had been stubborn. I could not see how even the King of Rohan could keep my father's name from being dragged through the mud because of my wantonness. I wondered if he truly thought that he could have kept my circumstances private, or if he had merely had a case of 'wishful thinking'. I could not take the chance that it had been the latter, so I had not gone with him, but had followed through with the plan and had come here. Now I was beyond miserable and was growing more so by the minute.

For perhaps the thousandth time, I cursed my dear husband for dying on me. What had he been thinking? Were the horses worth more than his wife? Was he stupid? Could he not see the stable was about to fall down around his ears? Why did he not abandon the rescue of the mares as the hopeless cause that it was? Because of his stubbornness his son had also given his life. I cursed him for getting my boy killed.

I hated Dustin! I hated him!

I loved him! I love him! I love him—

My heart was breaking; I missed my Dustin so much. How could I hate him, and miss him, and love him so intensely, all at the same time? I felt I had finally lost my mind with the grief of losing him and my Tristin. How had I survived this long? How had I done it?

How could my wounds still be this raw and open after three long years? Had I not suffered enough? What had I done in my life that was so horrible that needed such punishment? What lesson had I to learn that I had not learned, that made this suffering necessary to purge my soul? Was I truly such a horrible person, that I needed this scourging?

I wept bitterly for quite a long while, until my eyes were swollen and my nose raw. I had no tears left to weep once again, yet my heart continued to cry quietly.

Then I slept.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I awoke as someone softly sat beside me on the bed and touched my forehead. I had yet to open my eyes when the washcloth was removed from my slackened fingers and the covers adjusted around my shoulders. Whomever it was lingered for only a moment longer, then blew out the lamp beside the bed as he stood. I heard no footsteps; of course he was Elven. He was male, for the weight on the bed bespoke as much. I then heard the door quietly click shut.

I knew it most probably wasn't Elladan. He would have been unable to resist at least a small kiss on the cheek. More than likely it had been Haldan, but he usually could not resist the urge to speak. However, he felt somewhat responsible for my current heartache, so his silence would not be unexpected. It had probably been him.

It mattered not. Nothing mattered to me at the present. I wished only to sleep, and I prayed the morrow would bring a small measure of peace. I asked only that I not feel such complete despair.

It would be nice to not feel this deep hole of emptiness as well.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I awoke a few hours later and realized it wasn't even midnight yet. I felt as though I had slept the entire night away and was wide awake. It seemed as if it should be morning with the day stretching ahead of me instead of more endless hours of darkness, but the sun was nowhere in evidence—and would not be showing itself for several hours yet.

I rose and washed my face. I thought about dressing but dismissed the idea. I felt not like sleeping at the moment, but there was still a long stretch of darkness left in this night. Perhaps sleep would come to me before dawn. Not likely, but possible.

I sat on the veranda again, listening to the night creatures as they went about their business in the balmy blackness. My brow puckered in frustration when I heard a knock on my door. I prayed to the Valar that it not be Elladan—I had not the strength to deal with him now. I would be in his arms before the door even closed. I would be making love to him before my back hit the bed.

I had no defenses left in me. I was stripped bare to the bones of any emotion save need—need of comfort; need of love; need of something to help me know I still lived and breathed.

So I uttered no words—I said nothing and made no attempt to answer the knock, in hopes that my late-night caller would go on his way. It was to no avail, however. Whoever it was, had the nerve to open the door anyway and entered uninvited.

To my great surprise it was Elrond.

"What brings you here so late, my lord?" I asked him benignly. "I told Nivia I wanted no company nor needed any healer. Did she not tell you this?"

"Nivia said quite a number of things," Elrond said, seeming amused. He strolled across my bed chamber and onto the veranda, stopping beside my chair. "I believe among them she did mention that you told her you wished to be alone. You even gave her a lesson in spelling, I think."

"She has an ever efficient tongue, I see," I quipped nastily.

"Such an ugly mood you are in," he returned. "Care to talk about it?"

"Whether I do or not," I said, my tone unchanged, "I probably have no choice in the matter, do I?"

"No, not really," he answered coolly. "What has your skirt in such a knot, Maeren?" Elrond asked, sounding quite a bit like Elrohir, truth be known. I controlled the urge to smile.

"I am having a bad day, Elrond," I replied shortly. "Am I allowed that? Or is that against Elven rules?"

"No," he said, "Elves often have bad days. Personally, I've had a bad year!" He pulled a chair out from the table and sat across from me.

I smiled at that in spite of myself. He smiled at his success in making me smile.

"I suppose Nivia told you what started our little tiff," I said, beginning to blush.

"Yes," Elrond said, trying not to chuckle. "I thought it amusing. She, however, was still somewhat outraged. You certainly hit a nerve with her. I think you may have hit closer to the mark than she was comfortable with admitting."

I looked at him quickly. "You think I am right?" I exclaimed. "She has 'eyes' for you, but when I saw it and commented on it, it shamed her, and she became defensive? That was why her reaction was so severe?"

"I think that is probably the case," he replied, looking just a small bit sheepish. "She has never been anything but proper with me, but I catch her watching me at times, when she thinks I do not see. She does special favors for me, and brings me special gifts for no reason—that sort of thing." His smile widened. "It is very flattering, but as she told you, I am very married. I truly have no interest in affairs of the flesh any longer, so it matters not how she feels, unfortunately for her. She will find someone eventually to fill her heart, I have no doubt."

I was very curious about what he had just said, but I had gotten myself into so much hot water by being curious, that I dared not ask about his 'disinterest in affairs of the flesh'. I wondered, since he was so forthcoming about the subject and showed no shame in admitting such a thing—unlike a mortal man would have—that it must not be an uncommon thing for an Elf to lose interest in pleasures of the flesh after they reached a certain age. I was going to make a mental note to discuss this with Haldan. If anyone would be open about such a subject, it would be him.

"I still do not want her as a handmaiden any longer, Elrond," I said honestly. "I have been doing for myself all of my life and having someone wait on me goes against everything I stand for. Please don't make me take her back into my service."

"Maeren," he said, his voice taking on a condescending tone, "all ladies in the house have handmaidens. That is simply how it is."

"Then I wish to move out to the Healing Halls," I said directly. "Wherever Haldan and the others reside, that is where I wish to live as well."

"That is impossible," he replied coolly, as if I were small child.

"And why is that, Elrond?" I asked, my voice rising along with my anger. "I thought nothing was impossible for the Eldar; at least that is what most of them delight in telling me."

"You need not become angry," he admonished. "It is impossible, because I am taking over your care now that I am home, and I cannot see to you efficiently if you are out in the Healing Halls. That is why, and the subject is closed. C-L-O-S-E-D."

I wanted to scream at him. Instead I seethed. "You are hateful; do you know that?" I asked quietly.

"I have been told that many times," he admitted, "and right here in this room, by one not unlike you, actually."

I remembered that Elrohir, when showing me this room for the first time, had told me that this had been Arwen's room. Thinking of her made me smile.

"Arwen told me once that she felt we were kindred spirits," I said wistfully.

"The more I speak to you, and get to know you," Elrond said, "the more inclined I am to agree with her." He rose from his chair and extended his hand to me. I was still very angry with him, but was more intimidated by him, so I took his hand and rose. He led me to the bed, and it did not take a genius to realize that he was putting me there.

"What if I am not ready to sleep yet, Elrond?" I asked indignantly.

"I can help you with that small problem," he replied with confidence.

I covered myself up with some help from my Elven keeper. I must have been scowling horribly at him, for suddenly he leaned down and scowled horribly at me.

"Your face will stay that way, should you continue to abuse it thusly," he ground out of his frown.

I cursed myself and laughed; I could not keep a straight face with him mocking me that way. He looked completely asinine. He straightened up and became lordly once again.

"Tomorrow, when you are _hopefully _in a better mood," he said pointedly, "we will discuss some of the things you brought up tonight, plus some others I would have words with you about. For now, humor an old Elf and sleep. May I induce sleep upon you, Maeren? It hurts not at all, and you will wake when you will. 'Tis not a drug nor magical—I have no control over the length or depth of your unconsciousness. Will you allow me to do this for you?"

I heaved a tired sigh. "All right, my lord," I replied dejectedly. "That will be the only way I will return to sleep this night, I fear, and I desperately need rest. Lay on your tingling hands."

"I see you have had benefit of this procedure before," he said, eyebrows rising.

"A few times," I admitted. "Elladan has used it on me twice himself, and he and Haldan employed it when I was in pain with a stone a while back. I know how it works, and I do not fear it. It is very welcome, truthfully. I thank you."

He sat on the edge of my bed and placed one of his slender hands along the side of my face. His hand was gentle and warm—and of course, it tingled. I breathed deeply with peace and closed my eyes.

_It seemed there were others in my life, which I could not decide if I loved or hated tonight—and they would be the Elves._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The morning began very much better than the night had ended, thanks be. I rose and got myself ready for the day—no Nivia, no braids, no fussing. I went down to the morning meal, neither early nor late. Elrond and Glorfindel greeted me upon my arrival. I in turn greeted the others as they arrived after me. No one asked about my absence of the night before. I assumed that either Nivia spilled the story to everyone, or they decided to spare me the inquisition.

Elrond requested my attendance at a meeting in the library as soon as the meal was concluded. He also called for the presence of Haldan. No one else was invited, thankfully. I really had no wish to be grilled by the Lord of Imladris in the presence of a crowd, and since Haldan was firmly in my corner, I believed he would not allow Elrond to pound me into mush if he could stop it. So when the time came to depart for the meeting, I was fairly calm for a change.

Elrond's library was a wonderful place, even though most of the volumes it contained were written in Elvish, and I could not read a word of what was written in them. There is just something about a library—a place filled with row upon row of books of all shapes and sizes. It smelled of books and knowledge—ancient lore all but forgotten, had someone not thought to eternalize their thoughts on the pages in ink.

Elrond ushered Haldan and I into the room and to a square table. He sat us down there, and then seated himself. Already on the table lay a sheaf of papers neatly bundled and tied at the top, and Elrond immediately began perusing them as soon as he was comfortable. After just a few seconds, he glanced up at me and set the papers back down.

"I asked you both here in order to be brought up to date on how your condition is proceeding, Maeren," Elrond informed us. "It seems that upon your arrival, Haldan gave you a fairly thorough examination, did he not?"

"Yes," I replied, smiling. "He did, and he pronounced me and the baby well, although he did advise rest for a day."

Elrond nodded and put in, "Which advice you took, did you not?"

"I did, my lord," I agreed.

"Haldan," Elrond looked to the Head Healer, "your report says that the child seemed to be right on schedule as far as size and heart rate, and its movements were sufficient. Is that right?"

"Yes, my lord," Haldan said beaming. _He was such a beautiful Elf._

"Then we come to the kidney stone incident," Elrond said, one eyebrow rising, and one eyebrow frowning. That was a trick of his brows I had not seen him perform before, and it was eye catching, to say the least. Then my stomach dropped to my feet, and I wondered just how detailed the report was that Haldan had written up about my arrival to the Healing Halls that night. 

"I see that at first the diagnosis was—sketchy at best," the Elf lord said as he referred to the report. I am sure I must have been turning ten shades of red. Without moving my head, my eyes wandered over to Haldan, and his eyes were bouncing around the room, not lighting on anything or anyone, in their quest to avoid contact with either Elrond or me.

"However," Elrond continued, "it seems that the following morning you had a sudden inspiration, Haldan, and diagnosed the kidney stone. Is that correct?"

"–es," Haldan gasped, "Yes," he corrected himself, "I finally put one and one together, er—as it were—I mean—yes. That is correct."

"Be at ease, Haldan," Elrond said smiling. "I do not hold you accountable for my son's fleshly nature. You wrote a thorough report of your findings, as a good healer would. Worry not. Actually, Haldan that will be all. Thank you for your attendance."

"Pardon me, Elrond," Haldan began, "I know 'tis not my place, but please remember our lady here is in a delicate condition and lately has been showing a much melancholy side."

"No pardon needed, my friend," Elrond assured him. "I promise I will remember. Have no worry for her safety. I will not harm her—body or soul."

Haldan smiled wanly, squeezed my hand and rose to leave. He gave one last pointed look at Elrond, then turned and left. My eyes were growing larger by the minute, I was sure. My face was probably growing pale as well.

Elrond turned his full attention on me. I felt as I had when I told the King I was going to have his child—suddenly faint, and as if I would fall to the floor. However, I was sitting, so I would not have far to fall. The Elf lord must have seen the distress I was in. He suddenly reached out with both of his hands and cupped my face. I felt the healing tingle, and a surge of power, almost, but instead of sleepiness, it was more of a boost this time.

_Incredible. It worked in reverse as well?_

"Maeren," he called softly, "are you with me again?" I could barely hear him, so I supposed that technically, I was not. So I did not answer him. He called me again, and he sounded louder this time. So I did answer him.

"Yes," I said weakly. "I am here. I think."

Elrond got up from his seat and went to his desk a few feet away, where on one corner sat a decanter with small stem ware glasses. He poured a glass of whatever it was for me, and brought it to me, placing it in my hand. When I made no move to drink it, he took my hand in his and guided it to my lips, helping me sip it. I'd had it before, at the Palace in Minas Tirith. It was somewhat like wine, but was not; I knew not what to call it. However, it was most pleasant tasting and warm going down. It did bolster me, so along with the Elven healing Elrond had given me, I was coming around finally.

"I am sorry, my lord," I said quietly. "The circumstances surrounding my visit to the Healing Halls the night of the stone flare up, were embarrassing indeed, and for obvious reasons, I felt extreme shame that you found out about them at all."

"Indeed," Elrond said. "That is understandable. However, the incident is done and will not be repeated. Will it?" He asked the question with such complete authority that I could do nothing but agree.

"No," I said. "It will not occur again."

"That is just as I thought," he said. "I have spoken to Elladan concerning the matter, and he assures me 'twas nothing but a passing fancy between the two of you. Is that correct?"

"Yes, my lord," I answered automatically. I know not why I was not affronted by his directness. I suppose I was still not myself from my near faint—that, and I was petrified.

Elrond breathed a huge sigh, placing his elbows on the table and rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. He placed his arms on the table, crossing them.

"I feared the worst when I saw the details of this report, Maeren," he said directly. "I could let you read it, but suffice it to say that Haldan left no particulars out. Let me first say, that I am not in the habit of intruding into either of my sons' private lives, but after the nightmare I have just lived through with their sister and a mortal, quite understandably, my blood ran cold when I saw your name and Elladan's linked in this way. I am going to ask you straight out—are you in love with my son?"

"No, Elrond, I am not," I declared. It seemed as if my voice had decided to come back to me again. "Elladan has approached me several times, and I would be lying if I said I sent him away. I did not. He is a very attractive Elf, and I am a healthy female—I do not apologize for that. But I am not in love with him, nor have I ever indicated such to him. He has never spoken words of love to me directly, but at times, I wonder if his feelings do not run deeper than he is letting on. Haldan reminded me that the twins would have to make the same choice that Arwen made. Unfortunately, that had not occurred to me before, or I never would have even had a 'passing fancy' with Elladan. I swear to you that is true. Never would I have done that to you, knowing the misery you have been in over Arwen's choice. I promise you now that Elladan's choice—whatever it ultimately will be—will not be made because of me."

"I appreciate your candor," Elrond said sincerely. "You know not how much I appreciate it. But please—and I am asking you this from my heart—do not lose sight of your promise to me. I do not think I can bear to lose either of my sons in the same way that I have lost my daughter."

"You will not lose them, Elrond," I said in earnest. "At least, not on my account. I have not spoken to Elladan about my being 'off limits' as of yet, and I know not if I will spell it out quite in this way. I may simply profess concern over the baby, and I am sure he will respect my wishes about that. He was plenty afraid when Haldan made his first 'diagnosis', that is for certain." I smiled for the first time during this conversation, as did the Elf lord sitting across from me.

"I can just see his face," Elrond admitted, his smile growing, "when Haldan told him what he thought was wrong with you. I'll bet Elladan was ready to give up fleshly pleasures for a century if it would make things right for you again."

I laughed. "He was certainly shaken," I agreed. "Elladan is a wonderful person, Elrond. Both of your sons are."

"I agree with you," he said, "but then, I am partial, so my opinion really doesn't count.

"It counts a great deal with me," I said, trying to butter him up. I was hoping to move on to other topics now that I thought this one was settled.

"Elrond," I began, hoping it was safe to change the subject, "you said we could discuss this today—"

"About moving out to the Healing Halls?" he asked pointedly.

"No," I said with dismissal. "I've given you that one. I'll not fight you on it. The one about the handmaiden—do not make me have one. I do not need waiting on; truly I do not."

He considered a moment, then said, "Done. Anything else?"

I was so surprised, I could think of no other requests! Drat, and it would have been such a good time to do it, with him in such a receptive mood, or so it seemed!

"No," I replied. "That is all—for the moment," I qualified.

He smiled. "I will be sure to await your further requests. Now, scoot you off to wherever you are to be. I have work to do. Much catching up, after my absence."

"Elrond," I said, "you care not if I attend Haldan in the Healing Halls, do you?"

"Of course not," he replied scowling, "what would give you that idea?"

"Only Erestor's insistence that I not dare put a toe in there while you were away," I said sarcastically.

Elrond smiled a ghost of a smile. "Pay no heed to Erestor," he said. "Give him his due respect, but follow Haldan's orders. He knows how things are done in Imladris' Healing Halls."

"Erestor deserves no respect," I retorted quickly. "He's arrogant, rude and nasty most of the time."

"Nevertheless," Elrond looked me in the eyes, "you will give him the respect you would give anyone else in this house, Maeren. That is abundantly clear, is it not?"

I was a bit taken aback, but how could the statement be anything other than crystal clear?

"Of course, my lord," I replied. "I will do so per your command."

"Very well," he said. He stood and walked to the desk. "Now get you gone, I have much work to do." He was smiling at me. His face was most pleasant—almost handsome when he smiled in that way. I smiled in return and left him to his business.

I would have almost felt lighthearted, had it not been for the fact that I still had to face Elladan. I still had to tell him that we were no longer going to pursue each other in a carnal fashion. It was going to hurt me just as much, if not more, than it was going to hurt him. Elrond had said he had discussed the matter with his son, but he had not told me if he had declared me off limits to him. I supposed it was up to me to make the declaration. I was very tired of worrying about this, and the only way I could see it going away was to confront it once and for all. I decided that tonight, after evening meal, unless the opportunity presented itself before then, would be the time I would definitely do the dirty deed—of telling him the awful news.

I spent the rest of the day with Haldan in the Healing Halls. He was much relieved to see me in one piece when I made my appearance there after I left Elrond. I watched as he visibly relaxed at the sight of me safe and sound, as I walked in the door of the infirmary. I laughed at his chagrin as he began to apologize for his habit of copious note-taking concerning examinations. I asked him just what he had included in that report, and he told me that he had written absolutely everything that he had told me and Elladan. Absolutely everything! I blushed just thinking about Elrond reading it, but I laughed as well. Elrond certainly was a good sport, considering the circumstances. He could have made mincemeat of me, but he treated me with much respect and kindness. I was impressed with the Lord of Imladris. Very impressed.

We spent a pleasant day going through the herb cabinets, checking for freshness and quantity, making notes of things that were needing replacement or refilling. I had knowledge of all known herbs—I thought. However, there were many more the Elves knew of that Humans apparently did not. The task took over three hours. The list for replacements and refilling was fairly long, but Haldan assured me that we would have no trouble finding the herbs in the gardens of Imladris. Or, failing that, we would be able to find them on the land within the borders, he was sure.

"Will we get to go find them?" I asked eagerly.

"Well, I will," he said pleasantly enough.

My face fell. "Are you telling me you plan on leaving me behind?" I asked, just a bit hurt.

"You are hardly in any condition to be traipsing about Imladris on horseback, my dear," he said stuffily. "Surely you agree."

"I most certainly do not agree," I said, beginning to be angry. _I was growing tired of getting angry. I was doing too much of becoming angry lately._

"Maeren," Haldan said, his voice turning soft and gentle, "do not be angry with me. I am only looking out for you and the child. You know I do not enjoy tying your hands for my pleasure."

_Valar, I felt like weeping again. What was happening to me of a sudden? Anger and weeping were becoming my companions again, and I liked it not at all_.

I took a deep breath and stifled my tears. "Of course I know that, Haldan," I said calmly. "I am sorry. I was just looking forward to getting outside and gathering the herbs—doing healer things, you know? And being with you, that is all. "

Haldan's face broke into his angelic grin, and his eyes sparkled.

"Perhaps we can work something out, Maeren," he said. "Let me think on it, all right?"

I threw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, Haldan," I said, as I released him. "It means a lot to me, you know. I feel useless here most of the time. Let me do something to feel like I contribute, please?"

"I said I would work on it, lady," he said, laughing. "Some of these things we can merely walk the grounds and find, so of course you can accompany me. Perhaps some of the more rare ones we can take a wagon out and find. It will not be as efficient, but who cares? It isn't as if the Healing Halls are awash with patients these days, is it?"

"Thank you, Haldan," I said, genuinely moved that he would alter his plans to accommodate me. "It means a lot to me that you would go to so much trouble just to appease me. You are truly a sweet Elf, you know that, do you not?"

"But of course I am!" Haldan said, that impish smile firmly in place. "Please, do not forget it, and above all, tell everyone you see or meet, about all of my attributes, would you?"

I laughed. _Eru, but it felt wonderful to laugh! _

"Haldan," I teased, "have you a lady for yourself? I just may have to claim you if you do not!"

Haldan's smile widened, and he beamed even more.

"I do, Maeren," he said. "However, she is in the Undying Lands with Celebrian; I, too, am in the same situation that Elrond is in. My lady—Elania is her name—suffered mightily with the sea longing. It was making her ill, she longed to sail so badly. I practically had to drag her to the dock myself, she so did not want to leave me; but I was not ready to go yet. I have my charges here to look after—Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir; Glorfindel and even ornery old Erestor. They are my people, and I have taken an oath that as long Elrond holds sway over Imladris, I hold sway over Imladris' Healing Halls. Elania awaits me, and it will not be long before we are reunited. When Elrond sails, I sail as well. I look forward to it. I miss her fiercely."

"Oh Haldan," I exclaimed, "I am so elated for you! To know that you are not alone, that you have a lady waiting for you, makes me very happy!"

"Now all we need do is find a man for our Maeren," Haldan said.

My smile faded slightly. "Worry not about me, Haldan. I am destined to be alone. I want none other than the man that I had, and he is gone. So I will live the rest of my days by myself, thank you very much."

"Now, I believe that," Haldan said skeptically, "like I believe Orcs smell like flowers. Elves differ from Humans in their capacity to bond in love but once. Humans, I know, have a much greater capacity for love than this. It was told to me once, by someone very wise."

"And who might that have been, my dear healer?" I asked him facetiously.

"I forget," he said impishly. "But believe me, she was _very_, very wise."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	34. Fast and Furious

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The weeks flew by, and before I knew it, two months had come and gone. Things had become much brighter in my life, for which I was very grateful. I had my discussion with Elladan, telling him ultimately, that having our attempts at intimacy found out by his father, I wanted not to incur the Elf lord's wrath any more than I had already done. He seemed to take it well. I did not ask him if his father had forbid our 'dalliance', nor did he volunteer the information. I somehow thought that had not been the case. Knowing Elladan as I had come to, I thought an edict such as that would have had the opposite effect on him. Elrond probably thought so as well.

Had I known that this day would be so memorable, perhaps I would have stayed abed, but I did not. I rose as I normally did, and after all my ablutions and obligatory tonics and breaking of fasts, I joined Elrond in the library. I shivered as I entered, for as usual, it was cold in the room. It was cold everywhere in Imladris these days—except perhaps in my room, where I had the sense to build a fire in the grate.

As soon as cooler weather arrived in Imladris, I had learned that if I intended to be warm enough I had to bundle up. The Elves did not believe much in using fire for warmth, it would seem. Of course there was always warmth in the Hall of Fire, where I did spend some of my time in the evenings. Most days I tended to gravitate to the library, where I knew someone would always be about.

Elrond assured me that when it was 'really' cold, fires would be lit throughout all the halls in Imladris. I certainly hoped he was giving me the truth, for otherwise, I dreaded being here during the winter months. The baby was not expected until Yule—which was over a full month away—and it would be very cold by then. The two of us would not be able to travel the terrain until spring, so would be spending the entire season here. I was not looking forward to the cold months with the Elves if there would be no fires in the grates, that was for certain.

My girth had extended well. I was slightly into my eighth month. I still had a ways to go, unfortunately. I remembered my time carrying Tristin well. I was not yet into the 'waddling' stage and my stomach did not bump into everything I approached yet, but it would soon, I had no doubt. For now, I was just large. I was full of energy, but awkward and unable to do those things I wished to do—at least in a way that did not make anyone witnessing me doing them die laughing. And living with Elves, that was liable to happen whenever I attempted to do much of anything.

However, I have to give credit where credit is due. The Elves certainly know how to dress a woman, particularly if she is with child. I have never known such comfort in clothes before. From the softness of the cloth of the undergarments, to the cut of the clothing itself, dressing in Imladris was a luxury. I was given voluminous draping gowns that hung to the floor, with as many stockings to pull over my icy feet as I wished. And the colors! From the deepest of midnight blue velvets to the palest of chiffon pinks, materials of every possible texture and hue were in my wardrobe. If I liked nothing I had, I could ask for something to be made, and with hardly a blink of an eye, it was made! I only used this service, and only then in reverse, when I wished to dig in the herb gardens outside the Healing Halls, and wanted not to dirty any of the fine clothing they had been so kind to furnish me with already. If my mother could see me now, she would be laughing and wishing she could join me in my fun. _How I wished she could join me as well. _

Even though I may have fallen from grace, it seems I had managed to fall right into the lap of luxury.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

So this morning, as I did almost every morning, I joined Elrond in the library. As usual, he had his nose buried in a book so large, it almost engulfed the entire surface of his desk. I wondered at the lore it must contain. I could not read it. It was written in Elvish, as were most of the volumes in this awesome room. I went to stand behind him, not fearing I would startle him for by now I knew exactly how sharp Elven hearing was. He had most likely heard me exit my room; there was no doubt he knew I stood behind him now.

He marked his place and closed the book, glancing up over his shoulder to look at me.

"How fares the young mother-to-be this morn?" he asked with a smile.

"She fares exceedingly well," I replied, as I dropped a kiss on his smooth cheek.

He smiled warmly at that. We had grown to have an abiding friendship, much to my joy. Soon after his arrival home, we began taking walks—twice a day usually, depending on the weather. The walks and talks had done much to ease any tension from which our rocky relationship had started. He had been overseeing my condition, and it would have been difficult to allow him near me so personally—not to mention eventually deliver the baby—had we still been at odds with one another. I sat down in the window seat near his desk.

"It is a beautiful day," he said, as he opened the book once more, "we should walk later."

"That sounds like a fine idea," I replied. I looked out the window at the veranda, watching a small brown bird beneath a table peck at the stones there in search of crumbs that may have been dropped during someone's meal. I smiled as its mate joined in the search.

"What are your plans for the day?" I asked, making casual conversation. I hoped I wasn't interrupting him. I didn't want to annoy the Elf, but I was fidgety.

"Oh, nothing too interesting," he answered offhandedly. "Erestor insists that I must go over the kitchen inventory with him, though _I_ insist that it is his responsibility and not mine, that twenty cases of wine seem to have sprouted legs and walked away. And Nivrim insists that someone has taken a particular liking to his sticky buns. He is thinking of setting some sort of trap to ensnare the guilty party in the act of pilfering his delicacies. I must go and attempt to talk him out of it. I deem it unnecessary. A growing mother needs her nourishment, hmmm?"

"What makes you think it is me who is pilfering from the cook?" I asked innocently.

"I need only follow the trail of crumbs back to your room," he answered, smirking.

"I leave no trail of crumbs!" I replied indignantly.

"Aha! I caught you!" he said with a triumphant smile.

"Elrond, you deceiver!" I said with a laugh.

"Worry not, Maeren," he said, the smile still prominent on his face, "your secret addiction is safe with me."

"I will not sit here and be ridiculed, my lord," I retorted haughtily. As I rose, something very unexpected happened. The water that is supposed to surround the baby until birth suddenly burst forth from my body, soaking me and the beautiful wood floor at my feet.

I looked at Elrond to see him staring at the puddle on the floor. I was beginning to shake. This could only mean one thing. I was going to give birth. And it wasn't time. What was I going to do? This couldn't be happening.

Elrond must have sensed my panic; he was immediately at my side, supporting me. He tiptoed us out of the water, and we made our way out of the library.

It seemed as if it took us forever to make our way through the halls of Elrond's house. The Elf lord was supporting most of my weight. My knees were shaking with fear, which made walking difficult.

"Would you allow me to carry you, Maeren?" Elrond asked.

"No, Elrond," I answered. "I am fine. We may pick up the pace a bit. I am calmer now."

Along the way we met Nivia, and she immediately noticed something was wrong.

"Maeren, you are not well," she observed.

"No, I am not, Nivia," I answered her shakily.

"Nivia," Elrond directed her, "go find Elladan. I need him to help me. Tell him to meet me in Maeren's room."

"Yes, my lord," she answered, bowing. Addressing me once more, she laid her hand on my arm and said, "May the blessings of Iluvatar be with you."

"Thank you, Nivia," I replied. Thankfully, we were almost to our destination.

By the time we reached the door to my room, panic was assailing me again. I was beginning to feel distinct cramps where I did not wish to be feeling them yet. I did not want to feel them in these places for at least six more weeks. _Sweet Eru, please. This could not be happening. Please. _

"Do you feel able to change into a nightdress on your own?" Elrond asked.

"Yes," I answered as I let go of him.

"You are sure?" he repeated. "I wish not to find you passed out on the floor and have to stitch a wound on your head as well as attend this birth."

"I am fine to dress myself, Elrond," I said with more assurance this time.

"In that case, I am going to retrieve the things I will need to tend to you. Will you be all right while I am gone, or should I await Elladan's arrival before I leave?" He was trying hard to be calm for my sake, at least that is how it appeared to me.

"You go and get what you will need," I assured him. "I will clean up and get into bed. I am much calmer now."

He gave me a very reassuring smile, and for some reason it did bolster my courage somewhat. What is it about Elves that seems to charge the very air surrounding them with electricity? I did not think I would ever know the answer to that question.

I went into the bathing room and stripped off the damp garments that clung limply to my legs. I tidied up quickly, dabbing at my body with a wet cloth and then drying off with one of the fluffy towels that I so adored which they furnished here in Imladris. There was a beautiful but simple rosewood chest of drawers in this bathing room, in which several undergarments, as well as stockings, nightdresses and shifts, were kept. I chose one of the nightdresses and put it on.

I was suddenly very nervous, but not only because of my fear for my baby. I was usually the healer at times like this. It had been fifteen years since I had given birth, and the midwife had been just that—a mid_wife_. A woman. It would be strange, indeed, to be having a male attending the birth of my baby; but now that I think of it, it truly mattered not. I wanted no one to be at the birthing. I wanted the baby not to come now. I wanted it to wait until it was supposed to be here. Who really cared if a male or a female attended? _Eru, please stop this from happening now. Let me wake up and realize this is just a bad dream._

I took a deep breath as I realized my panic was returning. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, and I commanded it to slow down. I left the bathing room and walked to the huge bed that had been mine for the past couple of months. Turning down the coverlets that I had only pulled up but a short time ago, I fluffed and then stacked the pillows against the headboard so that I could sit up. I climbed in, bringing the sheet and blankets back up to cover me. I had begun to shiver again, though I truly was not cold. I had hardly settled against the pillows good, when a knock sounded softly at the door. I bid the caller to enter.

It was Elladan, one of his hands laden with an empty basin and something resembling forceps. With his free hand, he widened the doorway for Elrond, whose hands held a tray laden with more of the same type of instruments as well as bottles of colored glass. Elrond made his way to the table beside my bed and set the tray down on top of it, while Elladan closed the door, then handed his offering to his father.

Turning to me, Elladan frowned and said, "What do you think you are doing, Maeren?"

"I think I am having a baby," I replied sadly.

Elrond began to put into order the things he had brought, but he glanced up at the sound of my voice. He then cleared his throat, catching the attention of his son, and with just a hint of a motion, shook his head. Elladan walked over to his father, and asked if he could assist him in some way. They conversed quietly for a few moments, shoving the instruments about and opening bottles. Elladan left and returned, filling the empty basin with water. Finally, Elrond approached my bed.

"Let us see what we have here, shall we?" There was that self-assured smile again. I smiled back at him as I relinquished my hold on the coverlet. He drew it down to just above my hips, where the swell of my abdomen began. He then drew my nightdress over the mound where my baby rested in my body. When I realized that the baby was indeed resting, and not being the active child it usually was, my eyes began leaking of their own volition. Elrond kneaded my belly in several places, as he always did when examining me, then left his hands still against my taut skin. There was that distinctive Elven tingle. It would never cease to amaze me. Even as I sat here crying over the fate of my unborn child, I could marvel at the beings that were the Elves.

I knew he couldn't help the slight tightening of his jaw as he continued to touch me. Elladan had seated himself on the opposite side of the bed and had his hand resting reassuringly atop the covers on my leg. I turned my gaze to him and saw that he was watching his father just as closely as I was, concern dawning on his face the longer his father continued to silently examine me in this way. Elrond straightened up, pulled my nightdress back down and covered me once more.

"The child is quiet this morning," he announced. "That is unusual, Maeren, is it not?"

Trying not to weep, but failing, I answered, "Yes, it is quite unusual. This child has been very active since well into my fourth month—unceasingly so. Until now." My tears were silently slipping down my face. I could not stop them; I didn't even try.

"Well," he said, letting out a breath, "there is nothing to be done about it. The waters are gone and the baby will be born. I would think it is just the novelty of being without that extra cushion, so to speak, that has the child stilled at the present. I would not be overly concerned at this time. Are you having any pain?" He certainly sounded confident, and he looked as if he were not trying to hide anything from me. I felt myself relax somewhat.

"Some," I replied, "though it is not strong or regular as of yet."

"In that case, it would perhaps be better were we to leave you to rest while you still may." The healer in him had emerged, and he had spoken. Orders had been given and they were to be followed. Dutifully, Elladan rose from the bed, gave me a small wave and a smile and left, saying nothing.

After watching his son's hasty exit, Elrond turned to me and smiled.

"I think Elladan may be squeamish about this birthing process," he said almost gleefully. He went back to the table holding all the supplies he would need for the birth of my baby and began mixing something into a glass of water. As soon as he was finished stirring the brew, he brought it to me, and held it out for me to take from him. I looked at him questioningly.

"It is only something to help you relax. It will have no ill effects on the child, I promise you," he stated quietly. I took the glass, held it up in salute, and downed the contents. It tasted terrible. It took a few minutes for the shivers of disgust the vile concoction sent through my tongue to cease wracking my body. I handed the glass back to a snickering Elrond.

Returning to the subject we had been discussing before, I said, "I thought Elladan was a trained healer," I exclaimed quietly. "Why would he be squeamish about aiding you during this birth? You would think he had never attended a birthing before." As Elrond began to chuckle I am sure my eyes grew wide.

"He has never attended a birth before?" I asked with astonishment. That explained his presence here and Haldan's absence. Elladan had requested that he be allowed to assist Elrond at the birth and was granted his request. That displaced Haldan, unfortunately. I was torn. I liked them both. They were both trained healers, although Haldan was by far the more experienced of the two. But Elrond had the final say, and he felt it was something Elladan should experience more fully. I'd had no idea it was because Elladan had not experienced it at all!

"You must remember, Maeren," he began, "Elven births are all but non-existent; Arwen was of the last to be born. Elladan did not witness his sister's birth, nor has he witnessed the birth of a Human child, nor one of a Dwarf, I would think—at least, none of which I have been made aware. Of course he has witnessed countless animals come into the world, but that is quite different, as you well know. Neither the experience, nor the responsibility, is the same. He is quite out of his league with this, I am afraid."

"Poor Elladan," I said, though I was still smiling. "Should we allow him to abandon this task, Elrond? I would hate to see him faint dead away—he would never live it down."

"Surely you jest, my dear," Elrond retorted. "Let one of my sons off easily? That would go against all that I hold dear! No, young one. Should he faint, we will prevent him from hurting himself too badly, but we—or at least I—will delight in spreading the news of his downfall."

"You are a vicious taskmaster," I admonished him, tongue in cheek. "Whatever will we do with you?"

"That remains to be seen, my dear." He clasped his hands in front of his body and looked at me solemnly. "Try not to fret, Maeren. I know it is easier said than done, but it will not help the situation to make yourself sick with worry when we know not the outcome of this. I will not lie to you. It is still very early for the child to leave your body; but it is not unheard of for one so small to survive. Attempt not to worry. Worrying about it will only make your body tense, and that will cause you more pain—and will ultimately result in more stress on the infant. I know you wish not for that."

"You are right, I know; but it is not easy, Elrond," I said pensively. "I have been trying to concentrate only on the baby and the birth, not on the difficulties or problems; but inevitably, I find myself back thinking on the things upon which I should not be dwelling."

"All you can do is try," Elrond said with a smile. "For now, try to rest. Someone will be in shortly to check on you—make sure you are not in pain or that you still need nothing. I will be surprised if things do not begin to move more swiftly soon, do you not agree?"

"I do agree," I replied. "I am surprised the pains have not begun in earnest yet, truth be known. In cases such as this that I have attended before, by now the mother was well into labor. I do not know why I am not. This whole thing puzzles me, Elrond. I suppose I should be grateful for the respite, though. It will come, and when it does, I will remember this conversation to be sure."

"To be sure," he agreed. "Get some rest now. I will return shortly." With one more encouraging smile, the Elf lord turned and left the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

I threw the coverlet off and rose, for there would certainly be no sleep for me. I had just had a full night's rest, and even before the onset of these unsettling events I had been fidgety. Being in the bed or walking around made no difference to the baby's health, that was for sure. I went back into the bathing room and retrieved a pair of stockings for my feet from the chest of drawers there. While the weather had warmed as the morning progressed, my feet were icy cold. Making my way to the window seat, I stood for a minute, gazing out at the vista before me.

I turned at the sound of a knock on the door. I crossed the room and let the caller in. Elrohir was surprised to see me on my feet. I was surprised it was him, and more to the point, I was surprised that I had forgotten to put a robe on over my thin linen nightdress. I quickly skipped to the bed, jumped in and covered up.

Elrohir laughed, as he usually did when he saw me, laden as I was, try to do anything quickly. The result was usually laughable.

"Maeren," he said in what was the beginnings of a chiding voice, "what are you doing traipsing about your room half naked when you are supposed to be in that bed?"

"I am in the bed, Elrohir," I said in an innocent voice, "am I not?"

"You are now," he agreed, "but if I had not visited you, you would not be. What is an Elf to do with such a wayward Human anyway? Hmmm? Perhaps a beating is in order." He was approaching the bed, looking very much like a schoolmaster eager to dole out punishment to a wayward pupil. "Yes, spanking you would bring me much pleasure. However, my father would frown on it, and he has a very formidable frown, does he not?"

"Indeed he does!" I laughed.

"Well, I suppose we will have to postpone the spanking until you are feeling better," he said resignedly. "Pity."

I laughed again.

"I am glad to see you are in better spirits. That is why Father sent me in here you know." Elrohir sat on the edge of the bed beside me.

"Your father certainly knows the healing arts well, Elrohir. You are indeed the correct medicine for me right now."

"How goes it?" he asked, his levity waning somewhat. "And try not to fib. I saw that tiny grimace you just tried to hide."

"You are correct," I replied honestly. "I am starting to feel a twinge on a regular basis."

Concern colored Elrohir's brow in a comical way—at least it was comical to me. I laughed without meaning to.

"Should I fetch Father?" he asked hurriedly. He started to rise.

"No Elrohir." I placed my hand on one of his knees, staying his flight. He almost seemed frightened to be in such close proximity to me—as if I might be contagious or something. He was hilarious. "Elrond will be along presently, I have no doubt."

"I believe I heard my name being mentioned," the Elf lord said as he entered the open door. "I trust it was being used wisely."

"Without doubt, Father," was Elrohir's innocent reply, although the expression on his face belied his words.

Elrond quirked one of his formidable eyebrows, but said nothing more on the subject.

I tried to stifle a rather large yawn.

"I see the Valerian has begun its work," he commented.

"Valerian," I said with recognition. "I should have known." However, Elrond had some explaining to do. "Why does your Valerian have such a vile taste? Mine never tastes so disgusting."

"I assume you mix something with yours to improve its flavor," he replied with a grin.

"Yes; I, and any healer who possesses a heart," I replied.

"Whoever said I possessed a heart?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Who indeed?" I gasped about this time. A sudden pain hit me hard. Elrohir jumped up from the bed as if a bolt of lightning had suddenly struck near him, and I laughed, despite the pain.

Why did Elrond give me Valerian? I did not want to be laughing when my baby's life was at stake.

But why was it making me laugh anyway? That did not make sense. He must have added something else he had not disclosed to me yet.

Elrond had replaced his son on the bed beside me and had taken my hands in his. He was looking me directly in the eyes, and I was staring back at him. It only took half a minute for the pain to subside, thank the Valar, so it was not long before I was breathing easier again.

"How long has this been occurring?" he asked me.

"You have been present since it began in earnest," I replied flippantly. _Well, it was his fault for giving me whatever herb it was that was making me feel drunk like this._

Turning to Elrohir, he said, "Unless you plan to help deliver this baby, I suggest you go and find your brother soon."

"That, I will gladly do," Elrohir said with relief. Before he left, however, he returned to my bedside—he had somehow managed to wander very close to the door—and took both of my hands in his. Kissing me on the cheek, he stood back and smiled.

"You and the baby will be fine, Maeren, I have no doubt." Glancing at his father, he continued, "You are in the best possible hands."

Smiling, I said, "Thank you, Elrohir. I know I am in good hands. I have no fear of that. You go on now. Get as far away from this room as you can. The blood-curdling screams I will send forth will melt your eyes, to be sure."

Elrohir shook his head at me and smiled, but did retreat to find Elladan.

_May the Valar help me. I was trading one quaking Elfling for another._

A/N #2: I also wish to thank 'Chicken Little', who, unfortunately, did not leave an email address (nor her/his true name), for setting me straight on the quotation mark debacle I have wrought in this fiction! I plan to 'right the wrongs' in the future. I hate that I messed up so royally, but it may take me a while to wade through the 'hundreds of pages' I have in this story and set it all to rights. I really appreciate your kindly worded and helpful feedback.

Puxinette


	35. Births and Beginnings

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

"I hate you, Elrond," I said nastily, without apparent provocation.

"What would prompt you to make such a malevolent remark, young one, when all I try to do is help you?" Elrond asked hurtfully. He really did look as if I had touched a nerve.

"Perhaps it is a side effect of whatever herb you slipped in with the Valerian you gave me earlier," I seethed at him.

"I did no such thing," he said in denial. "The drink I gave you contained spring water and powdered Valerian root and _naught else_."

"Are you telling me truthfully, Elf lord?" I asked disrespectfully.

He looked at me sternly, those forbidding brows drawn together in a frown. "I have yelled at you, called you names and brought you to tears; but I have never lied to you."

A bit cowed, but still unconvinced, I had to know. "Then how do you explain this giddiness I feel?" I practically wailed the question at him. "I should be weeping, but I am laughing. My baby's life is in danger, and all I can do is giggle!"

He came and sat down on the bed beside me.

"Maeren, have you given any thought to the idea that perhaps your mood is just your mind reacting to the stress of this situation?" he asked trying to soothe me.

"My mind has never reacted to stress in this way," I whined, trying to suppress a smirk at the funny sound of my own voice.

"Well," he returned, "as the wise ones say, 'there is a first time for everything'."

I smiled again, then remembered myself, "Curses! Why does my mind have to choose now for a first of this type?"

"Would you prefer to be weeping?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes!" I said vehemently. "That would be more appropriate to the situation, and I would definitely feel more normal!"

"I could shout at you or call you names," he offered. "Would that help?"

"No, I would probably find something funny about it," I replied. "It matters not right now, for—"

I could not finish my sentence. I had tensed with the pain which lanced through me._ Eru, how it hurt_. As the old wives had predicted for ages past, I had forgotten the intensity of the pains of childbirth after my first was barely out of the womb. It was all coming back to me now. Even though this baby was still fairly small, the process was the same as one full term and delivering it would be in the same painful way as the first. _Valar, why did you not create males with the capacity to bear the offspring for our species?_

The pain was soon over, at least according to _Elrond _it was. He said it had lasted but only a few seconds. I wondered to myself how long he would deem it were he the one who had to suffer it?

The spasms racking my body were coming more frequently now, once every ten minutes, give or take five minutes either way. It would not be long before I would be suffering them one atop the other—that was really fun. I could hardly wait. Things were no longer seeming quite so funny now. That was a good thing. I think.

There was a subtle knock on the door and Elladan entered. He crossed the room quickly and joined his father standing beside the bed. I was no longer propped up on the pillows. I was more comfortable lying flatter for now.

"Good," Elrond greeted his son, "I am glad you are here. This is the way we will proceed."

I had a feeling some of this instruction Elrond was about to impart to Elladan was going to be a wee bit on the facetious side. Perhaps it was in the manner of his delivery, no pun intended. He didn't bother to leave my bedside for one thing, nor did he mask his words to soften their meaning. He was up to no good, and Elladan was in for a hard time of it.

Looking his son directly in the eyes, without even a hint of a smile, Elrond told Elladan the procedure to be followed during this birth.

"I want you to catch the baby," he said nonchalantly, "and make it presentable for its mother, while I see to Maeren afterward."

"_Catch_ the baby?" Elladan asked, seeming confused.

"Yes," Elrond answered, as if he were dealing with one who was slow witted. "Catch the baby. You understand—as Maeren pushes it out of her body, you guide the baby's head out and catch the rest of the infant's body as it comes free. Oh, and do not forget the cord. I will do the actual cutting of it, but wait until I do, before you attempt to give the infant to Maeren."

I feared Elladan was not going to have to witness the actual birth in order to faint, by the green tinge his skin had taken on. I felt sorry for him. This was not something to take lightly, and I was not going to allow Elrond to continue doing this to him.

It seems the heartless Elven lord had a heart after all. He softened his face and steadied Elladan's wobbling stance with a hand on his arm.

"I was merely jesting with you, Elladan," Elrond said. "I knew you were nervous about witnessing this, and I was teasing you. I was wrong to do so. All you need do is assist me. If I need something I will ask you for it, that is all. Can you do that, or should I send for Haldan? You need not attend at all. I will understand, as will Maeren, I am sure."

"I will understand, Elladan," I agreed. "I knew not that you had never attended a birth before. It can be a very daunting thing to witness the first time—even the first several times. No one will think the less of you for not being here. You should have seen Elrohir run when he witnessed me in the throes of one of the childbirth pains."

Elrond laughed and said, "Indeed, he did run. You truly need not stay."

"No, Father," Elladan said, his voice stronger and his color no longer that of a pea, "there is no need to send for help from the healing halls. I will be fine. And if I find I am having difficulty, I will leave in plenty of time to fetch Haldan if necessary."

"That will be fine," Elrond said, slapping Elladan on the arm. "For now, we wait and hold a hurting woman's hand and soothe a perspiring brow. That is all we can do until things heat up, as they say."

The Valerian was indeed beginning to work. I was becoming drowsy. Great. Now that I could rest, I could not rest. The pains of childbirth were coming at regular ten-minute intervals; not particularly inducive to a good restful sleep. The Elves had both drawn comfortable chairs up beside the bed, in which they sat and spoke quietly in Elvish or watched me until I finally told them to cease doing so. They were making me nervous.

The chairs in which they were sitting, belonged to a small table that sat against the wall nearest the door. I often sat at that table and read, or wrote letters to Arwen. Elrond regularly sent messengers to Minas Tirith for one reason or another. How I wished to see Arwen again. I had known her but a brief time, but I liked her tremendously well. And Faramir. I also wrote to him. And I received letters back from them both. It was such a treat the first time I actually received a message from the Elven messenger. Elrond sent for me. He did not just accept the message for me. No. He sent for me, and the messenger presented the leather message pouch to me with a bow. It was most impressive and delightful. For me and Elrond both. I stole a glance at the usually serene Elf lord's face, and it was alight with pleasure at seeing me so happy. It is in life's simplest delights that true happiness is found.

I was becoming distinctly uncomfortable now. Elrond decided it was time to check on the baby once more. It had been almost two hours since he had done so. He again uncovered me and bared my belly, and again laid his hands against the restful swelling on my body. _It was so quiet_. As he stood there motionless, I became fearful that the infant may not still live. Elrond suddenly sat in his chair and placed his ear against my abdomen. Cold waves of fear rushed through my torso. He raised his head and covered me again. He turned to face me and smiled.

"Worry not," he said, though the conviction in his voice was not very convincing. "Its heartbeat is strong yet, but it remains very still. However, your labor progresses, and it should not take much longer, I do not think."

I said nothing, I simply nodded that I had heard. A pain was descending in waves from my waist down the small of my back, encompassing my entire lower body and climaxing just between my hip bones. It was pure agony, and I gasped louder than ever this time.

Elladan dipped a cloth into the basin of water standing on the bedside table, wrung it out, and began sponging my face. It felt very good—cool and soothing. He continued to wash my face and neck until the next spasm overtook me about two minutes later. He paused then and placed the cloth in the basin and took hold of one of my hands. Elrond had stationed himself on the other side of me on the bed, and held my other hand, doing all he could at this time; comforting me and calming me with words of encouragement.

The pains were coming in tandem now, seeming like one continuous stabbing knife. I wanted to scream, but knew it would do no good. I settled for moaning and weeping. It accomplished the same goal, without leaving one's throat so sore. Elladan alternated between wiping the tears from my eyes and bathing my face with the cooling water.

Then suddenly the urge hit me.

"Elrond— " I said insistently. "It is time for me to push."

"No, Maeren," he said, "wait until I see for myself."

"Elrond," I said through clenched teeth, "what is to see? The baby is too small to tear me! Allow me to push for Valar's sake!"

"Do not push until I give you leave," he commanded, in a no nonsense tone.

"Whatever you say, your majesty!" I said through the pain and my tears of frustration.

"That is better," he said haughtily, "and I very much like the title. I hope you remember to use it when things are once again back to normal.

"Elladan, move please," he said quietly, "I have to uncover her. Unless, of course, you would wish to enhance your education a bit more." Elladan gave his father a wide berth then.

Elrond drew the bedclothes completely down the length of the bed until they were mounded on the floor at the foot of it. He then drew my nightdress up well past the swelling of my abdomen, and gently steepled my legs, spreading them and bending my knees and placing my feet flat against the mattress. I would have been embarrassed, but I was well past caring by now. The pain and the pressure was unbearable; I just wanted to push this baby out of my body.

He seemed to be taking an eternity getting himself ready to deliver the baby. I wanted to scream at him to get ready, the baby was coming. I had to push now; I just had to.

"All right, young one," he replied, as if he had read my mind, "you may do as you wish now."

Part of me wanted to laugh as I looked down between my knees and saw him looking back at me, those brows drawn together, but with a smile on his face.

I pushed with the force of the contraction. It felt so good to be doing something, even though the pain was killing me. Of course the baby did not seem to budge, but right now I cared not. Just having the freedom to push is elating in itself to a woman in this stage of labor. I relaxed as the contraction eased and breathed deeply. Elladan was kneeling beside the bed at my head, holding my hand, and stroking my hair. My gaze caught his and he smiled at me.

"Not long now," he said. "Care to place a wager? A son or a daughter?"

"No wagers," I panted, but that was all I had time for. Another wave of agony hit, and I raised up on my elbows, intent on pushing this child out, more sooner than later.

I could not keep from laughing through this wave of pain, looking down at Elrond who was concentrating on the progress of my baby's head. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed at my feet where they were spread apart to give him access to the baby when it emerged from my body.

I pushed and strained with the spasm of the muscles of my womb, willing the baby to move downward and out of my body. But as babies will, it had a mind and a schedule of its own, and stubbornly refused to move again with this contraction as well. I lay back down onto the bed, breathing deeply again—weeping involuntarily with the emotion and strain of it all—not to mention the pain.

Elladan was there still, with his cool, damp cloth, running it over my face and neck. I blessed him and thanked him over and over, until the next spasm hit, which was only a matter of seconds.

Again, I raised up on my elbows, and this time, Elladan got the bright idea of climbing up behind me, and holding me up. I blessed him again, and he thanked me for the blessing. I laughed through my tears. I pushed and strained, hoping I was making some progress. The spasm was soon over, and I relaxed against him. He held me loosely. It felt so nice.

"With that last contraction, young one," Elrond said, "the baby crowned. You are very close now. Only one or two more pushes and your child will be born."

I started to respond, but choked back the remark. Another pain hit, so I concentrated instead on birthing the child. I pushed with all the strength left in me, and I prayed the same way. I believe it may have had a positive effect.

"We are almost parents, young one," Elrond said. Even with his half-scowl, he was beaming!

"Well," I forced out with the pain, "one of us is. I believe you—technically—could probably—be considered—a—grand—par—ent—"

I felt the tremendous pressure as the head emerged from me—the pain indescribable—followed by the rush of the body as it followed suit. And then I heard the cry. The squeaky mewling of a tiny infant. Elrond handed the squirming being to Elladan, who had risen from behind me and gently lay me back on the bed. He carefully accepted the baby, enfolding it in a towel. Elrond cut the cord, and then Elladan moved away.

"Rub him vigorously, Elladan," Elrond said, "and hold him upside down at intervals. It will help drain any fluid there may be left in his lungs."

"Him?" I asked shakily.

"You have a son, Maeren," Elrond said with tears in his eyes. It was then that I realized how much this child must mean to him. It really was as if this small boy-child was his grandson. Aragorn was raised here in Imladris as one of his own children, so it is no wonder he would look upon my baby as one of his own family.

"And a fine son he is, Maeren," Elladan said from the table near the door. At some point during my laboring, he or Elrond, or both of them, had set up a place for the baby—a small bed for it—him, I mean.

"Elladan," I asked with concern, "how is he? Is he breathing all right? How is his color? He is moving, is he not?"

"Young one, slow down," Elrond complained in Elladan's behalf. "Give him a chance to answer."

"He seems fine, Maeren," Elladan answered at last. "Ten fingers, ten toes, a tail—"

"Elladan!" Elrond said sternly.

"Sorry Father," Elladan said laughing, "I couldn't resist. The child is fighting me as if I were an Orc, Maeren. He is strong, and you can hear for yourself the voice with which he is complaining."

It was true; for being so small, he was squalling like he was exceedingly angry.

"Elladan, bring him to me," I said. "I know not what you are doing to him, but he does not like it, and I am putting a stop to it now."

Elladan brought my son to me then, all wrapped up in a clean towel and laid him in my arms. I gently bounced my son for a few moments until he became quieter, though he did not sleep; he merely looked around with those hazy eyes newborns have that see only Eru knows what. Elrond was still busy down at my 'nether end' but I had not even noticed, so entranced was I by the small being I held in my hands.

And he was so small. I carefully unwrapped him, needing to see for myself that he was hale. And he was. Tiny, to be sure. He seemed perfect, but he would be watched like a hawk for a few days—more like a few weeks, I would say—to make sure all was well with him.

A son. I had a son. I could not believe it.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	36. Fathers and Fear

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Elrond allowed me to rise and clean up as soon as all the 'loose ends' had been taken care of—so to speak. I was very shaky, so he helped me with my bath—a quick dip in and out of the tub. I had left the baby in the care of Elladan. He was going to take him down to the Healing Halls, so that Haldan could look him over—and to spread the glad tidings of his birth. I made Elladan promise to bundle him up and guard him with care. He smiled and gave me his word. I knew I had not to worry.

I wanted to weep at how sweet Elrond was with me. All I had to do was sit in the tub—he washed me. Then all I had to do was stand on the mat beside the tub—he dried me. I could not muster the strength to be embarrassed, and what was the point? He'd seen all I had to show when he'd guided my child into this world. He was being extremely respectful of me in all ways; I had nothing of which to be ashamed. He gave me supplies of the things I would need to see me though the time until I would quit bleeding after the birth. _I_ took care of this, have no fear. He found undergarments, and a nightdress and the bundles of cloths and pins, and then left me to dress myself.

I was soon clothed and once more settled in the bed. It too, had been stripped and the sheets replaced with clean ones—Elrond again. I wondered why he had not called Nivia or some other help from the household to do these mundane chores, but I did not ask. The atmosphere in this room was one I wished not to break. There was an aura of peace and tranquility, and my soul reveled in it. Perhaps he felt it too, and he wished for no one to intrude upon it either—at least no outsider, one not within our close circle. I fully expected Haldan and Elrohir to come soon; perhaps even Glorfindel may pay a visit. I supposed Erestor could come. I cared not, in my elation, one way or another, as long as he kept his mouth somewhat civil. I was ready for my baby to be returned. I had not held him long enough yet_. I did not think I could hold him long enough._

Elrond finally had put things to rights to his satisfaction, and sat in the chair he had pulled up beside my bed. A wide grin bloomed over his fair face.

"He is beautiful, is he not?" he asked almost reverently.

"I believe I am the one who is supposed to say that," I said facetiously.

"Humor me," he directed.

"Yes," I admitted, "he is beautiful beyond words, even though I say it myself."

"Estel will be very proud of his son," Elrond said, with a faraway look in his eyes. "Arwen will fall in love with him the moment she beholds him for the first time."

Why was what Elrond saying leaving cold dread in the pit of my stomach? I decided I would not allow it to, and I squashed the terrible emotions down and out of my consciousness.

"Arwen cannot wait to have babies of her own," I replied. "And yes, she seems the type who would love babies—whoever they belong to."

"Yes," he agreed, his smile still warm.

Our gazes were drawn to the door when it opened suddenly, and in poured Elladan and Elrohir, followed by Haldan, who now had possession of the baby. Glorfindel was bringing up the rear. There was no sign of Erestor, thanks be.

The expression on Haldan's cherubic face nearly stopped my heart. He looked first at the baby, and then he turned his liquid, crystal eyes on me, his smile small but genuinely heartfelt.

"You are extremely talented in the art of making children, Maeren," Haldan said sincerely. "This has to be one of the most beautiful of babies I have ever beheld in my entire lifetime."

I knew not what to say. After all, I'd had some help accomplishing the feat. I decided to go for simplicity.

"Thank you, Haldan," I replied. "If not for you keeping me in line, I would have had a harder time accomplishing it, I think." His smile grew wider. He handed my child down to me.

"He grows restive," Haldan remarked, "and the last time I had dealings with an infant, that indicated hunger, most of the time."

"You are probably correct," I said, as I prepared to nurse my baby for the first time. I seemed to be the only one the least bit timid about baring my breast in front of the room full of males. They did not even bat an eye—none of them. I asked Elrond for a towel, which he provided for me, then I draped it over my shoulder. I offered the baby my breast beneath that cover, and I felt much more at ease. _Elves were truly something else._

"Maeren," Elrohir said, as he drew a small leather message pouch from a pocket in his tunic, "I have here a message from Estel. He gave it to me before we left the White City, and I have held it for you for safe keeping."

He handed me the pouch, which I in turn handed to Elrond, so he could remove the contents. Elrond handed back to me the envelope the pouch had contained, along with the unfolded piece of parchment within it. I first perused the outside of the envelope,; it had something written on it as well. Written on the outside of the envelope was a simple message: _'To be Opened Upon the Birth of Our Son'._

_So he _had_ known the baby was going to be a boy. And he had been very confident about the fact._

I then glanced at the missive the envelope had contained and frowned. Shifting the baby so that I could use both hands for a moment, I tore the parchment into two pieces and let them waft down wherever they may fall.

Elrohir could not stand it—his curiosity got the better of him, and he bent and retrieved the pieces of paper—one was on my knees, and the other had fallen to the floor at his father's feet. He put the two pieces together and a smile gradually formed on his face. He glanced up and me and a short burst of laughter erupted from him.

"It is a list of names Estel has given for Maeren to select from—to name the baby," Elrohir said to the room at large, with apparent glee. "Which one will you call him, Maeren?"

I frowned at him, wishing to shout, but thought better of it, not wanting to startle the baby at my breast.

"None of them, Elrohir," I replied frostily. "I have already chosen my son's name, as is the prerogative of a Rohirric mother. His name will be Leofa, named after the eleventh King of Rohan. I trust Aragorn will have no quarrel with the fine name I have chosen."

"I trust he will not," Elrond agreed. "Leofa was indeed a fine king. The people of Rohan held him in great esteem. He was most generous in his actions, and he shared all that he had with his people. His true name was Brytta, though, was it not? Leofa was what the people called him familiarly—it means 'beloved' in Rohirric, I believe?"

I smiled at Elrond's knowledge of Rohan's history.

"Yes, that is what it means," I answered him. "And this baby is exactly that to me—beloved. I cannot name him otherwise, no matter what Aragorn wants."

"He will understand that, Maeren," Elladan said quietly. "Estel will have no objections to such a beautiful name for his son."

"No he will not," Elrond agreed. "You have chosen well, as I knew you would."

I turned my attention back to Leofa, who had fallen asleep at my breast, allowing my nipple to slip from his mouth. He would have to be encouraged more often than most babies, since he was early, and weaker than his full term brothers usually are. But for now, Mother was weary and needed some rest along with her baby. I covered myself and lowered infant and towel from my bosom. Elrond immediately sat forward to take Leofa from me. Apparently the Lord of Imladris could not hold Aragorn's newborn son enough either.

Elrond stood with the baby cradled next to his body and announced that it was time for all my company to exit the room so that I may sleep. One by one they came to me, telling me how wonderful it was to have a baby at last among the Elves, even though he was not actually Elven.

Haldan. How I love Haldan. I know not when he stole my heart; perhaps the very first time I beheld his angelic face, I suppose. He was the last to bid me goodbye. He knelt by my bed and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"You did good, Maeren," he said, his eyes sparkling. "But how are _you_? Are you in pain? Should I fetch you anything? May I lay my Elven hands on you and ease you into sleep?"

A tear crept from the corner of my eye nearest to him. _One day before he left for the Undying Lands, I must tell him exactly how much his friendship has meant to me._

"I would like that, Haldan," I replied quietly. "But first, I need a bit of your common sense to help ease my mind."

His brow creased, in puzzlement or concern, I was not sure which. I hurriedly explained myself.

"I fear for Leofa," I said with trepidation. "Call it foreboding; call it being a mother hen; I care not what you call it. He's so tiny, Haldan; he should not be here yet." My tears were increasing, and my voice grew strained, so Haldan produced for me a hanky—I often wondered where the Elves kept these things so handy. I seemed to need them often enough.

"Will you please keep a close watch on him, while I sleep?" I almost pleaded. "I fear not for him while Elrond holds him; you know that. But otherwise, will you please not let him out of your sight? His breathing must be watched. His lungs are immature. I am so afraid. I do not ask this lightly, Haldan. I have lost a child before—I cannot lose another. I would not survive. Believe me, I would not."

The healer looked stricken, but did not ask me to explain. That was a fortunate thing; I could not have, even had he requested it.

"You have my word," was all he said to me.

"Speak with Elrohir," I simply added. "He can explain all."

Haldan grasped my hands in his tightly for a few minutes, and looked deeply into my eyes. I felt that same sort of boost that Elrond had given me, when I had almost fainted once while being intimidated by him. I would have blessed Haldan, had I the strength to have done so. Haldan relaxed his grip on my hands slowly, and I felt the inner peace that always accompanies the healing bestowed by the Elves. His face softened, and his smile turned sweet. He placed one of his healing hands to the side of my face gently, and there it softly tingled.

"Sleep easy, sweet Maeren," he said serenely.

Sweet Haldan. How I love him.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I rose from my nap a short while later, mildly surprised that a hungry child had not awakened me by now. Then I remembered that being early, he would more than likely need prompting to suckle. I did wonder, however, why Elrond or Haldan had not brought him to me already. Surely they would have thought of this on their own.

I felt surprisingly strong, so I wrapped up well in a sturdy robe and put on some stout slippers and headed downstairs. I hoped I made it before someone caught me. I would be sure to get an earful about doing too much too soon after giving birth if I was found out. I took it slowly. I was a bit sore, naturally. Even an early baby's head is much larger than the opening it is allowed to come through!

You would have thought Eru, himself, had entered the library, when I crossed the threshold of the room. All eyes were upon me, and the room grew still. I scanned each Elf in turn, looking for Leofa, and my eyes finally found him—nestled in Glorfindel's lap as he sat on a couch in front of the hearth. All five of the Elves were seated either in chairs grouped around the couch or on the couch itself. The low table in the midst of them was already littered with things they had been using to tend to Leofa—diapers, washcloths and some sort of absorbing powder. Glorfindel looked as if he had been born to hold a baby, as at ease did he appear.

His smiled and waved me over, apparently trying not to wake the sleeping child.

"I was just about to bring him to you," Elrond declared. "He should be nursed again, I think. He seems not to care, but that would be his lack of age showing."

"I agree," I said quietly, beaming down at my son. I sat gingerly beside Glorfindel, as the Elf lord gently scooped Leofa up from his lap and deposited the waving infant into my arms. _Valar, the feel of holding this child left me breathless with joy!_

The robe I was wearing made discretion possible while nursing Leofa this time, so I accomplished offering him my breast with little thought of embarrassment. He began rooting for my nipple eagerly—for a moment—but was soon tired, so I began stroking his cheek, to keep him somewhat alert. I knew he wasn't getting much from me yet, but it was important that he suckle—practice for him, stimulation for bringing in my milk for me. Add to that the sheer joy of the closeness of having his skin next to mine. I cannot describe the feeling. I was a mother again.

"I sent a messenger to Minas Tirith earlier this afternoon," Elrond informed me, "taking tidings of Leofa's birth to Estel and Arwen. They will be very pleased when they hear the good news."

"Of course," was all I could manage to say. I was going to have to overcome my feelings of dread every time Aragorn's name was mentioned in the same breath as Leofa's. That was all there was to it. I could not live my life in constant fear that the King of Gondor was going to take my son away from me. Elrohir assured me that it would not happen. I had the most powerful Elves on Middle Earth on my side. What more could I ask for? I found that even as I was thinking these thoughts, I was calming inside.

"Did you tell them his name?" Elrohir wanted to know, his smile was sly, and I could tell he wanted to laugh.

"I did, indeed," Elrond declared. "I will be quite surprised if Estel does not already know the story of Brytta, and the meaning of the name 'Leofa', but in case he does not, I added it. Of course, I wrote it in the guise of a missive to Arwen, so as not to insult the intelligence of the King."

"Of course," Elrohir laughed. I smiled as well.

"Maeren," Elladan said with quiet concern, "you look very tired. Would you allow one of us to help you back upstairs? Maybe we could bring you a small meal?"

"I would like that," I replied. "I find I am pretty tired after all."

Leofa had long since succumbed to slumber, even with my continued prodding to his cheeks. I had even resorted to uncovering his tiny feet, stroking his arches and rubbing his toes. He cared not. I rearranged my clothing and handed the baby up to Elladan, then accepted hands from Glorfindel and Elrond to rise. With Elladan preceding me holding my offspring, an Elf lord supporting each of my arms, and Elrohir and Haldan walking behind, we made quite a parade mounting the stairs. I was put to bed and Leofa was placed into a beautiful cradle that had magically appeared from nowhere in my absence. At my inquiry as to its origins, I was told that it had been made especially for Leofa by order of Aragorn, per plans he had sent—again along with Elrohir—and had been in the works since his arrival back in Imladris. It was beautiful, indeed.

Glorfindel had gone to the kitchen while the baby and I were being settled in our respective beds, and he returned quickly not long after he had left. He brought to me on a tray, a large bowl of chicken soup—the staple of one not feeling quite up to par. Also on the tray was a big glass of milk and a large slab of fresh, soft bread—so soft it could almost melt in your mouth. All the Elves by now new my penchant for breads of all types—sticky buns in particular. I now knew my secret was no longer so secret. I set about eating with relish—I was surprised by how hungry I actually was.

My tray was taken away as soon as I was finished. Elladan fluffed my pillows and made sure I was comfortable. Elrohir offered a bedtime story, which I surprised him by accepting. He was merely being silly, and I called him on it, but he did not even miss a step—he thought of a story right off and began the telling of it right away. It was some inanity about an Elfling stuck in a tree or some such nonsense. I laughed a lot—and groaned, from the pain of laughing. Elrond finally shooed all the others save Haldan out of the room, claiming I needed a good night's rest.

"Maeren," he asked, "how fare you this evening? Ordinarily I check on new mothers frequently, monitor their bleeding, but since you are a healer yourself, and have likewise given birth before, I will leave it to you to tell me if you think it necessary that I examine you."

"Thank you, Elrond," I said with a smile, "I appreciate your care of me—for this entire time of my confinement, if I have not already told you so. And especially for today. Your delivery of Leofa and your tender care of me afterward. You know not what your care and friendship means to me. You really do not. As to an examination, you are right, I am keeping a watchful eye on myself, and all is just as it should be. An examination is truly unnecessary."

"Very well," he said. "For tonight do you wish to have someone in here to monitor the baby's breathing and general health, or do you wish to regain your strength, and have him taken to the Healing Halls and monitored there by Haldan? Again, it is your decision."

"I would wish that someone keep him in here," I replied, "and wake me every few hours to nurse him, if that would not be too much trouble."

Elrond had a smirk on his lips. "Keeping the Elves away from the baby will be more the trouble, I will be wagering," he said facetiously. "No trouble will it be at all. Either Haldan or I will share the duties for the next few weeks, until we all deem him out of danger. Does this suit you?"

"It suits me very much," I said, holding my hands out to both him and Haldan. Both Elves approached me and took my hands in theirs.

"We did it," I said, my voice strong and a smile firmly on my mouth. "He is early and small, but he seems hale and whole. I thank you both from the bottom of my heart. Bless you both, and I love you both, you know that, do you not?"

They only smiled.

"Lay you down now, new mother," Haldan said as he disengaged himself from my grip. He pulled the pillows from behind my back and settled me down for sleep. "I'll take first watch," he told Elrond solemnly. I laughed, and he shot me a stern look.

"Did I not tell you to sleep, young lady?" he asked sternly.

"No," I told him, "you merely said 'lie down'."

"Well, I'm telling you now," he admonished. "Go to sleep. No more talking or laughing. Is that understood?"

"You sound like my father," I said frowning, almost pouting.

"Good," Haldan said, "that was just what I was intending to do."

Elrond chuckled softly. "Call me when it is 'my watch', Haldan," he said as he walked from the room.

"Good night," I called after him." Haldan again scowled at me. "What?" I asked him.

"You are being a very bad girl," he returned.

"All right," I laughed, "I am going to sleep. Wake me in a few hours, will you?"

He smiled. "That I will do. Pleasant dreams, sweet one."

I heard him walk over to the cradle where my new son lay sleeping. There was a rustle of cloth, when he fussed over Leofa for a few minutes, then more footsteps as he went to the chair to sit down.

Then the room was filled with soft, melodious singing—a sweet Elvish lullaby lilted into my ears, and drifted into my dreams as I fell into sleep. I dreamt of beautiful castles and handsome princes riding atop gallant steeds and rescuing comely maidens. Nice pleasant dreams for a change.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The weeks flew by quickly and Leofa grew at an alarming rate. He not only grew, he thrived, and by Yule, he looked like an entirely different child. His hair was fair, as mine was—reddish gold—and his dark blue eyes had faded to silver gray. He had very high cheekbones and his face was wide across the eyes; his chin had a distinct cleft. If Leofa ever thought to make a claim for the throne of Gondor, he certainly would not be taken lightly. All one had to do was look at him. His kinship to the King could not be denied.

The Elves doted on the child shamelessly. He wanted for nothing; but then, what does a child of this age want for, but a breast when hungry, a blanket and arms to hold him when he is cold or frightened, and a cradle and lullabies when he is sleepy? My heart was warmed as I believe it had never been in my life, truth be known. I mourned the fact that I'd not had Elves in my life ere now; everything about them was joyous—especially with a young one in their midst.

I laughed more these past weeks than I had in a very long time. Seeing ancient Elf lords on the rug before the hearth blowing 'raspberries' on an infant's tummy to that infant's delight, nearly made me wet the floor more than once!

The first time Erestor held Leofa, I got my first glimpse of the Elf who may, perhaps, be buried beneath some great pain deep within his heart. Leofa looked at Erestor and the Elf looked back at the baby—whose eyes were wide. Leofa finally cooed and smiled. Erestor gasped and had such a look of wonder on his face. It quickly left, however, and he handed my son back to me without a word. But I'd seen the Elf beyond the wall Erestor kept him hidden behind. I knew Elrond was right to give him his space. His hurt must be tragic and deep.

It was the first Yule that had been celebrated by Middle Earth since the War of the Ring—as it had begun to be called. And what gift did _I_ get? A king, that's what. Aragorn paid a visit to Imladris during Yuletide, escaping his duties as King of Gondor—in fact, leaving all the trappings behind—including the Queen, to my severe disappointment. He rode incognito, as Strider I presume, in the ratty old ranger's clothes I had first beheld him in, when I met him in the Houses of Healing. He had no crown, no velvet robes, and no bodyguards. And no Queen.

The first inkling I had that he was in Imladris was when I woke with a start to find someone in my room holding my child, and it wasn't one of the Elves. The light was dim. I kept a lamp burning very low, so I had a small bit of light by which to get up with Leofa. I sat straight up in my bed, and cursed him in Rohirric, asking him what in Eru's name he thought he was doing. He had the nerve to shush me and that made me furious! I rose in a rage, with the intent to attack him and wrest my child from his unholy grasp. He caught my wrist easily, even holding the baby, and by that time, I was awake enough and near enough to him to see whom he was. I jerked my hand free from him and retreated back to my bed. I got in and covered up, and turned my back to him. I had no wish to see him, let alone speak to him. _And, thank the Valar, he did not speak to me, either. _

I could not sleep with him there, so I just lay there stewing. All my old insecurities resurfaced, as if they had never been gone. I suppose I had never truly dealt with them, I had only pushed them aside. After all, I was safe here with Leofa in Imladris with the Elves. Aragorn was clear off in Gondor—at least he was supposed to be.

I heard his footsteps cross the floor, and it was apparent that he was leaving the room.

"Wait!" I said, sitting up. "Where are you going?"

"Only downstairs," he said quietly. Leofa was lying in his father's arms, running his tiny fingers through his father's hair, which was resting on his shoulder. "I don't want to disturb you."

My heart was racing. I did not even want him to take Leofa out of my sight. I knew I was being irrational, but I was afraid. I wanted to jump up and snatch my child out of the King's hands, but I knew I had no right to do such a thing. Aragorn was the baby's father. He had a right to see him and hold him. He loved him as I did. I had to make myself calm down.

"Only downstairs?" I asked stupidly.

"Only downstairs," he repeated softly. "Elrond is down there now. We will all three have a nice visit, won't we Leofa?" The last sentence was aimed at his son and said with love even I could hear in his voice.

"All right then," I said. And I lay back down. I hoped he could not see the tears as they began to slide down my face. I felt so completely idiotic weeping like this. Elrond would not allow Aragorn to take Leofa out of Imladris in the dead of winter. That was ludicrous. I knew this to be true.

Well, my happiness was nice while it lasted, I must say.

Happy Yuletide everyone. And to all a goodnight.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	37. Spitting and Spewing

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

"Must you hover so?" Aragorn asked in frustration. "Could I be alone with my son for even ten minutes?"

"I am sorry, Aragorn," I answered, ashamed. "I will leave you now. I will be in the Healing Halls with Haldan should I be needed."

This scene had played itself out for at least the fourth time this morning—the very first day of Aragorn's visit to Imladris. I quickly left him with Leofa, my heart crying out that this was wrong, but I could not listen to it—it was my heart that was wrong, and I knew it. I made my way to the infirmary, my back stiff and my head held high, trying to keep the tears in my eyes where they belonged. I willed myself not to weep. I had been without tears for weeks now—until last night with Aragorn's appearance. I wanted not to revert back into old habits—old tiresome habits that had been hard to break.

I entered the wards, keeping my resolve. No tears ran down my face. But I must have looked as if the world were ending. Haldan rushed over to me, extending his arms. I fell into my dear friend's embrace, clinging to him as if he could save me from being devoured by some fell beast. He held me close, stroking my back and crooning to me—asking me why Aragorn's visit was upsetting me so terribly.

Haldan finally led me to a set of table and chairs where we often sat and took meals when we worked here in the wards together.

"Maeren," he asked, his face full of concern, "do you love him? Is that it? Will it be too hard to see him leave when he goes?"

I laughed bleakly; this idea was so far from the truth, it was hysterical to me.

"No, Haldan," I answered when I finally could. "I do not love him—the thoughts of him terrify me—I almost hate him, truth be known!"

"Maeren!" Haldan said with astonishment. "That surprises me greatly. Hate is an emotion I would never associate with you. You do not look to have it within your heart to hate. What causes you to think such a thing, let alone say it?"

I looked down at my hands, feeling a little chastised by what Haldan had just said.

"I am afraid of Aragorn, Haldan," I admitted. "He is a very powerful man. I am but one small, insignificant woman, and he could have my son away from me in a heartbeat, if he so chose. You know how I constantly fight the fear of losing Leofa. To have him wrested from me by his father would be no easier than watching death take him from me, Haldan."

"Maeren, Maeren, be reasonable!" Haldan said in a chiding voice. "Estel would never dream of taking Leofa away from his mother—the thought would never even occur to him—you must believe me."

"Have you discussed this with him since he has become King, Haldan?" I asked, anger creeping into my voice. "Have you even spoken to him at all since he has returned?"

"I have spoken to him today, but briefly," he admitted, "though not about this subject. But, with your leave, I will do just that."

"Certainly you have my leave to do so," I said. "Any and all of you have my leave to discuss this with him. I will discuss this with him as well. I want him to know that he cannot have Leofa, no matter if he is the King of Gondor—even if he were Eru, himself, I would not give him my child!"

"Maeren," Haldan softly scolded me, "you are becoming hysterical. You must calm yourself. I had no idea you had all this terror dammed up within your heart. And you are right. That is exactly what you must do. You must march your little self back into the house and right up to Estel, and voice these things you have just said to me—but to him. Hand the baby to the handiest Elf, take Estel by the hand and go somewhere private where you both may scream at each other, if it comes to that. Have it out with the man, lady! You must be at peace! This is tearing your heart to shreds!"

"You are right, Haldan," I finally told him, after a few moments of contemplating the matter. "It is time I finally put my worries to rest, and the only way to do that is to confront Aragorn with the question—is he or is he not going to take my son from me?" I rose from my chair. "Thank you, friend. Ever is your head level and your counsel wise."

"Ever should you _never_ forget that little gem of wisdom," Haldan quipped, and then he smiled his angel's smile.

I left him sitting at the table and made my way back to Elrond's house, back to the room where I had left my son in his father's care. As soon as Aragorn saw me walking toward him, he rolled his eyes unkindly; I tried not to let my anger rise. I had it coming. I had been tormenting the man with my presence since dawn, and it was almost time for midday meal.

I did exactly as Haldan had advised. I took Leofa from a very surprised Aragorn and walked away from him, knowing he would follow me. I went to the library, expecting Elrond would certainly be there, and held Leofa out to his 'grandfather', who gladly opened his arms to accept the bundle of joy.

"Would you be so kind as to cuddle this sweet child while I have a long overdue word with his father?" I asked the Elf lord.

Elrond's eyebrows rose in fascination, but he asked me no questions, he merely agreed.

"May we use your study for our discussion?" I asked him.

Elrond didn't hesitate. "Please do," was all he said.

Again I led the way, walking briskly to hide my quaking knees. I was very afraid—mostly afraid I would break down and weep and rail at the King in my fear. I wanted not to appear vulnerable. That would only strengthen his position.

As soon as he had entered the room and turned to face me, I closed the door and confronted him in turn.

"What is this all about, Maeren?" he asked me. He wasted no time in letting me know he was angry. He got right to it. "Last night you would have killed me had you a dagger in your hand, and this morning you stood over me as I held our son, acting as if you feared for his life in my hands. What exactly is your problem?"

"I wish to know your intentions, now that our son is born," I explained. I tried to keep my voice even and calm. I wished to seem neither haughty nor attacking—only self-assured.

"My intentions?" he asked. "What they ever were. To have my son nearby—somehow. To know him. For him to know me—and Arwen—and any children we may have. What I told you before."

"That tells me not enough," I admitted. "I must ask you flat out. I have feared since I learned I was carrying your child that your intentions would ultimately be to have control of him. Are my fears founded—or not?"

"Have control of him?" he asked, as if confused.

"I fear you will take him from me, Aragorn!" I exclaimed, though not loudly. "Do you plan this or not?"

He did not speak for a few moments; in fact, he turned his back to me. He strolled to the window to gaze down into the valley. Whether he saw the beauty there or not, I could not say.

"I will not lie to you, Maeren," he said quietly. "The thought crossed my mind a time or two."

I felt my heart leap into my throat and then plunge to my feet. I wished for an Elf, to perhaps revive me from the faint I felt coming on.

He turned back to me, and continued speaking. "However, when I would think it completely through, there was no possible way I could take Leofa from you. It is an unconscionable thing for anyone to take a child from its mother, but for it to be done to you would be doubly so. I remember what you told me in the garden, about your son who had died. I could not take your baby away from you, knowing that you had already lost a child. You must not hold me in any esteem at all, if you think me capable of that."

"If you truly mean what you are saying, Aragorn, I could hold you in very great esteem," I said, smiling wanly at him finally. "I have been terrified of you taking Leofa from me for so long, it has even tormented my sleep. Even before he was born I was having nightmares of your treachery!" Aragorn chuckled at the choice of the words I used in describing him. "My fear has built you up to monstrous proportions in my mind—that is the cause for all of the hovering I have been doing. I am not sure I can simply turn my fear off as one would blow out a candle, but I promise you, that I will try my best to overcome this obsession I have. I am sorry for causing you such anger, Aragorn, and I sincerely meant not to offend you. I did not start out hating you, you know. Quite the contrary."

"It seemed not like hate at the time," he said one eyebrow quirked at a devilish angle. He gave me a wry smile.

I blushed and looked down to the floor. He walked toward me slowly and when he reached me, his long fingers beneath my chin raised my face so that I had to look at him.

He looked at me with Leofa's eyes and said, "I want there to be peace between us, Maeren—for our son's sake, at least."

"As do I, Aragorn," I told him. "And I promise to try. It should be easier now, that this issue has been settled—that is, unless you change your mind. You do not intend to change your mind, do you?"

His hands dropped noisily to his sides, and he let out an exasperated sigh. I laughed so he'd know I'd been teasing him, and he joined me finally, shaking his head.

"Sometimes your sense of humor leaves me guessing, my lady," he groused good-naturedly.

"I will try to go easy on you, my lord," I replied smartly. "Now, let us go back and fetch your son, so that you may have him for the rest of the day. I will only intrude when he calls me for meals."

"I would like that immensely, though you do not have to stay away," he said sincerely. "Just don't stand over me like I might break him. Otherwise, I care not if you are with us. Truly."

"Either way, I will not hover," I said as I opened the door, wanting to escape what seemed like the suddenly tight confines of Elrond's study. "I suppose now you must fight Elrond for possession of Leofa—that in itself might be quite a battle."

Aragorn laughed. "He is enraptured by the child, is he not?"

"All the Elves are, but Elrond in particular adores him. And he sails for The Undying Lands soon. One more person to leave behind—" I suddenly realized just whom I had spoken to, and I quickly apologized. "I am sorry Aragorn, I meant not to—"

"Worry not," he interrupted me, "Arwen and I have made our peace with it. Elrond has too, in his own way. All will be well."

I silently nodded and walked on ahead to the library. On entering, I stopped in my tracks. Elrond was seated at his desk, with Leofa on top of it nestled in a blanket. The Elf lord was tickling the child's feet with the end of one of his braids. The baby was laughing the little belly laugh that only babies can do, and the scene warmed my heart to near melting. Aragorn had stopped right behind me; I could feel his breath on my neck, he was standing so near. He chuckled deeply as he took in the scene before him.

I continued into the room, laughing as I moved closer to two of the people I held dearest in this world. I stopped beside them, beaming down into their two delighted faces.

"Very ticklish is this wee one," Elrond said in explanation of their playtime. His face was radiating joy. The love he had for the child was as obvious as if he had a sign painted across his forehead.

"Apparently," I replied around my smile. I reached down to stroke my son's cheek. _How I love him._

Elrond sat Leofa up, being careful of his still wobbly head and kissed his grandson on the nose.

"Tis time for you to go to your Ada, child. I want not to give you up, but he's here for a very short while, and he wants to cuddle you while he may. Up you go now, little one." Elrond pulled Leofa gently into his arms, cradling him to his chest as he stood. He walked to Aragorn and lay Leofa into his father's arms as the man held them out to accept his son. As the Elf relinquished his hold on the baby, Leofa began to fuss. When Elrond walked out of the child's range of vision, the baby's wail grew louder. Aragorn began to rock Leofa and sing to him, although it was slightly off key. It was to no avail, however, for the child's crying grew louder.

"It happens every time," I said frowning at the grinning Elf lord. "You must distract him in some way, Aragorn. Take him out of the room. Be sure and bundle him up well, and you could visit the stables. He loves the horses. That would certainly do it." Aragorn gave Elrond an exaggerated frown, then thanked me and left the room. I heaved a large sigh, and then turned to face the Lord of Imladris.

"You are shameless, you know that, don't you?" I asked the Elf lord.

"Quite shameless," he admitted, "and I love every minute of it!"

I strolled to the window and looked out at the scenery, even though I did not see the loveliness stretching out before me. I was lost in thought; therefore I was just the smallest bit startled when Elrond's voice quietly spoke into my ear a few minutes later.

"Did your discussion set your mind at ease, young one?" Elrond rested his hands upon my shoulders.

"Somewhat," I replied. "No," I emended, "more than somewhat; though I would be lying if I told you I was completely at ease. Leofa is still very young, and long years of his life yet stretch ahead. Aragorn could still change his mind and challenge my right to have Leofa with me. Something I do may not sit right with him, and he may decide he could better raise his son. For now, though, while Leofa is young, I feel confident that Aragorn will see fit to leave him with his mother."

Elrond dropped a kiss upon my cheek. "I am glad if your heart is eased, even a small bit. You have been tormenting yourself for far too long." The Lord of Imladris gave me a hug from behind, then retreated to his desk once more and seated himself and set to his work.

I watched him for a few moments. Come the springtime, Leofa and I would be off to Minas Tirith and Rohan, I expected. Just what we would tell people of how Leofa came about I hadn't a clue so far; I would have to set Haldan to work on it. That seemed something right along his line of thinking. He would be able to come up with an explanation that, while not technically a lie, was close enough to the truth, that I would be able to say it without feeling ashamed or misleading.

Elrond told me at one time that we would all set out at once—those Elves sailing would go their way, and Leofa and I, with an escort, would go our own way as well. We would say our goodbyes here in Imladris. He wanted no tearful dockside farewells. I thought it for the best myself. If there was one thing I hated, it was a public scene where I was blubbering my heart out for the world to see and hear, and I had no doubt that I would be doing just that.

Elrond was not the only one who would be losing people dear to him. He was leaving Leofa and me, and we were both going to miss him terribly. It was going to feel as if we had suffered a death in our family. We would never see him again. I had grown to love Elrond with all of my heart. There was no doubt of that—none at all. When he sailed to The Undying Lands, he would be taking a piece of my heart right along with him. It would take some time for my heart to heal from the wound he would leave. There was no doubt of that either.

_And the wound Haldan's leaving would inflict on me did not even bear thinking about! _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

"Allow me," Aragorn held his arms out to take Leofa. I hesitated, having just lifted the baby from my breast. He needed burping, and I hardly felt Aragorn was up to the task.

As Leofa grew, he'd become quite a greedy suckler, and he swallowed more air than he ought when he nursed. The result was hardly pleasant; most times, if the one burping him wasn't on his or her toes, they ended up with a lap full of milk, or a shoulder drenched quite thoroughly with it.

"Oh I think not, Aragorn," I answered him, "perhaps in awhile."

"Quit being this way, Maeren," Aragorn fussed at me. "Give me my son. I believe I can burp a baby. It cannot be as difficult as all that, now can it?"

I looked past the smug King at Elrond, who quirked a brow and nearly laughed. I smirked as well, picturing the haughty King with milk, which had been spit up, dripping down his back and his arm. Leofa could get quite forceful with the range he could reach—he made quite a spout of himself at times.I was feeling just contrary enough, that I smiled sweetly at Aragorn, and let him have his way _and_ his son. I carefully handed Leofa—minding his wobbly head—over to his father for burping. _Do your best stuff kid_.

It was after the evening meal, and we were sitting in the library. This was Leofa's final feeding before putting him to bed for the night. I was quite surprised with this child. He had begun sleeping through the night just last week. Technically, he shouldn't have been born until last week, so he shouldn't be sleeping through the night for several weeks yet. Against my better judgment, Haldan and Elrond had insisted that I start Leofa on a special blend of cereal grains mixed with goat's milk two weeks ago, to which they added several of the little known herbs I had never encountered until I had come to Imladris. Not only had Leofa gained weight more rapidly, he had become brighter eyed and bushier tailed—_and_ he slept through the night much quicker, thanks be!_ I owe the Elves much, to be sure—the least of which would not be several good night's sleeps._

Aragorn propped sweet little Leofa against his kingly shoulder and commenced thumping him on the back between the shoulder blades. No sounds came forth from the child, his head merely gyrated on the skinny axis of his little neck. So the King continued for a few minutes longer, increasing the pressure of the whacks, thinking that may dislodge the air within the body of his son. Leofa stubbornly held on to the pocket of air that was surely hiding beneath the roiling liquid in his stomach, waiting to emerge at just the right time. I could see the frustration building behind Aragorn's eyes.I held my hands out in silent offer to take Leofa off the King's hands, but Aragorn shook his head in stubborn refusal. I smiled slyly and shrugged. I had tried, and that was all I could do.

Aragorn continued to pat the back of the baby for a few more minutes, until Leofa grew restive and began to fuss. The King was becoming frustrated, to be sure. I tried very hard to contain my laughter—indeed to keep from smiling at all, because Aragorn's face was starting to resemble a storm cloud. He was becoming embarrassed over not being able to accomplish something—in his mind, at least—that was so simple. He finally lowered Leofa into his lap, with the baby facing him. It was then that it happened. Aragorn's son turned into a very fine imitation of the fountain beneath the White Tree of Gondor. He gushed all over the front of his father's velvet tunic—he even got some of it on his father's beard. Aragorn was a complete mess.

The entire room—except for me—erupted into laughter. Elrond, Glorfindel, and both twins were all in the library tonight, either reading or playing chess.I hadn't realized that the audience had grown from simply Elrond and me, so I was a bit startled by all the laughter. Leofa was too, apparently. He began to cry in earnest. I rose and whisked him from Aragorn's lap. The baby, miraculously, had come away from the disaster unscathed. He had not a drop on him. I sincerely was biting the inside of my cheek to keep from roaring with laughter, but I did not want to endanger my new found peace with Aragorn by laughing at him at this point. Aragorn, for his part, was sitting with a look of half disgust and half confusion, not knowing exactly what to do.

I gave him the towel I always used when burping Leofa, which I had _not _given to him—out of spite, I suppose.

"All you can do is simply change clothes, Aragorn," I told him honestly. "Just let that towel soak up the wetness, then proceed to stand."

"You could have warned me, you know," he said somewhat in anger.

"You seemed so positive you knew what you were doing, my lord," I said confidently. "I wanted not to step on your toes by telling you obvious things."

He only smiled a sickly smile at me. After mopping up the worst of the wetness, he stood and left the room. Snickers followed him, and he threw daggered looks behind himself at his brothers and father and Glorfindel.

So, it seems, the King of Gondor had his first lesson in the fine art of burping a baby.

I resumed my place on the couch in front of the hearth and continued with the nursing of my son. As soon as he'd finished at the second breast, I quietly burped him. He'd been much less eager and more sleepy at this one. He peacefully slept on my shoulder, full and content as only a well-fed baby can be. I rose to take him and myself to bed, and half way up the stairs, I met Aragorn coming down.

"I wondered perhaps since he sleeps through the night, if I may have him with me tonight?" the King asked me quietly.

I hesitated. Leofa had not been out of my room since the night he was born. I was almost superstitious about it. I wanted desperately to tell the King to just go away. Get back up on his horse and return to Gondor. It would be spring soon enough, and Leofa and I would be forced to attend him. He would get his time with him then. But I could not tell him such a thing.

"I suppose that is not too much to ask," I replied. "I will hold him, while you move his cradle."

Aragorn went into my room and took Leofa's cradle from within, moving it into the room he was occupying during his short stay here in Imladris. My eyes were tearing up, much to my frustration with myself, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had my arms full of my son. I took a deep breath of his baby smell, and at the same time rested my eyes against his blanket, blotting my tears away. I whispered my love to him as he lay in my arms, and I hoped he always knew how much his mother loved him.

Much too soon Aragorn was ready to take him from me. _It is only for the night, Maeren._ He handled Leofa with much care, and the baby did not even stir in his shift from parent to parent.

"Thank you for this," Aragorn said sincerely. I could see by the look in his eyes that he truly meant what he said. "I know it is hard for you. I can see it in your face that it is."

"I am sorry, Aragorn," I said shakily. "Tis nothing personal. It is simply old hurts that ache in my heart that make me react in this way."

He put his free hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"I will guard him all the night long. You have my solemn word."

I smiled. "Now it is I who thank you. Good night, Aragorn."

"Good night," he replied.

I watched as the King entered his room and closed the door, taking my son with him.

_It is only for the night, Maeren_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I had no sooner closed the door to my own room, than someone had knocked on it. My heart leapt, thinking that perhaps Aragorn had had second thoughts about keeping Leofa by himself overnight, but when I opened the door, it was only Elladan. I am sure my expression must have fallen somewhat, but I bid him to enter. I closed the door after him and leaned against it, trying to still my fluttering heart—which was still quickened by the thought that my son may have been returned to me; not by the fact that Elladan was paying me a visit.

"You look as if you have been forced to swallow a bug," Elladan observed.

"Why thank you," I said with false cheer. "You are certainly charming this evening, my fine Elf. To what do I owe this immense pleasure?" I took a good look at him then, and my heart began to beat in a different rhythm. He had that look in his eyes he always got when he had things on his mind that excluded everything but him and me.

He approached me slowly, stopping only inches from me. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth of him radiating outward toward me, and it was drawing me closer. I franticly held to the spot where I stood.

"I was merely wondering if time had perhaps changed your mind," he drawled. "You are no longer suffering from the aftereffects of Leofa's birth, so I thought to come and persuade you to sleep with me, if you could be persuaded." He had wrapped me in his arms, the warmth of his chest was against my breasts, and his lips were dancing down my neck. Reluctantly, I pulled myself together and freed myself from his grasp.

"And what makes you so sure I could be persuaded now?" I asked him smugly.

His answer was to dance his lips down the other side of my neck.

"We cannot be doing this sort of thing, you know," I said impatiently, pushing at him to let me go.

"I do not really understand why we should not," he said with the patience I did not have. "Could you explain it to me again, please?"

"Of course," I said obligingly. "I would be happy to. As you have so graciously just pointed out, I have recently had a child—your _sister's husband's _child. A veritable mess, would you not agree?"

"I would definitely agree," he stated calmly.

"Your father was most unhappy with me when he heard the news that I carried Aragorn's child. I feared for my life at one point in the conversation, truth be known," I said, shuddering with the recollection of the horrible confrontation with the Elf lord.

"I can see how you would," Elladan agreed once more. "My father can be quite formidable at times. But that is all water under the bridge by this point. Father loves you! It is as apparent as the blush on your cheeks."

"And I love him as well," I told the Elf honestly. "So you can see how I do not wish to upset him, do you not? How do you suppose he would feel if he discovered that I, who he should be able to trust implicitly, would stoop to the treachery of having a physical relationship with one of his sons? Especially since he has already voiced his opinion on the subject? Do you suppose that would please him, Elladan? I certainly do not think that it would."

"Maeren," Elladan said, his smile most beguiling, "I am an Elf well past majority. I ceased asking my father his opinion of my bed mates centuries ago."

"That is all well and good, Elladan," I said, growing impatient once again, "but that piece of information does me no good, does it? Whether you have his permission or no, has no bearing on this situation. It is _me_ who will bear the brunt of his disappointment, not you. And it is _me_ who is indebted to him for all he has done for me. Please have pity on me. If you like me at all, please stay away from me. I must keep my nose out of trouble while I am here, and with you embracing me, and kissing my neck, I cannot keep my resolve strong. You have to leave me be. You simply must."

"I see your point, Maeren," Elladan said, "but I cannot make any rash promises at this time. If only you were not so bewitching!" He reached for me yet again.

"I can see you are not taking me seriously," I said angrily, evading his arms. "Please go now. I am very tired and need rest—alone!" I pushed him toward the door and when we arrived, I grasped the handle and opened it.

"All right," he laughed, "I am going. Seriously, Maeren, I think you are making much more of this than you need to. My father cares not who I bed—"

"Shhh! Elladan!" I exclaimed in a loud whisper. "The door is open you stupid Elf! Just go and leave me alone! What you must think of me to have made such a statement—'my father cares not who I bed'—go bed an Orc, Elladan!" And with that, I slammed the door in his face.

_The randy Elf! Drat him! Why did he have to go and get me all stirred up again? _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_  
_

A/N: It has been considerable time since my 'wee ones' were wee, and I do not remember when they begin with that sweet laughter. Let's pretend they can do it at a month to six weeks old since it coincides with Aragorn's visit, even though I believe it is more like two to three months! But, hey, they are in Imladris and (even though he _was_ premature) the child is influenced by Elves and of Numenorean descent, and quite precocious!


	38. Late Letters and Lady Valerian

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Aragorn's visit lasted four days and five nights, and I did survive it—just barely.

I slept fitfully without my baby in his cradle beside my bed—all four of the nights he was not there. Part of me wished I had taken Elladan up on his offer. Being alone in my bed was torturous while my son was missing from my room. I was tied in knots, and when I did sleep I had dreams of fire and death or darkness and treacherous voices. Every morning I nursed my son for much longer than necessary, just to be near him, and to convince myself that he was truly fine and no harm had come to him. Aragorn could not leave soon enough to suit me.

The night before he was to leave the following morning, we were all once again in the library, enjoying one another's company. I was lost in thought, just holding Leofa to my bosom, gazing down into his sweet face and stroking his cheek. He was looking back at me, his silver gray eyes seeming to memorize my face. I wondered what he was thinking.

"Maeren," Aragorn suddenly said, "I almost forgot—this letter from Eomer had found its way to the bottom of my pack. I found it just a little while ago when I was packing to leave. I am sorry for the delay in giving it to you."

"Would you like to hold Leofa while I read it?" I asked him.

"Need you ask?" he replied, smiling, obviously in love with his son. He took the child, who by now was also delighted with his father as well.

I tore open the envelope quickly. A letter from Rohan! I had not received any messages from home since I had been here—none at all! I began to read Eomer's fine script:

_My sweetest Maeren— _

_I am hoping this missive finds you well. I have by now been told you have another boy. Tis glad I am to hear it. Leofa is his name—well chosen, mother! I told Aragorn all there was to know about our eleventh king, and glad he was to hear it—or so he told me! Our new King of Gondor is quite the stuffed shirt at times, is he not? _

I stopped and snickered out loud, catching Aragorn's attention, but I quickly looked back down to the letter and continued to read.

_It is with a glad heart that I tell you that your brothers and their families all made it through the dark times, not quite unscathed, but with their lives and their homes intact. Haedren took a nasty wound to the side, and he was sore ill for quite a long time, but he has recovered fully at last. Had you been here to heal him, he would have been cured in half the time, or so he says. He is very proud of you, sister, and that is a fact, even though I am sure he has never uttered a word of that to you. _

_Small Saelden received a commendation—from me, in a formal ceremony, no less—for bravery beyond the call of duty, when he faced down an Oliphaunt to save a comrade. He pulled one of the fallen riders from under the feet of one of the fell beasts. Others around him stood there frozen in their tracks, for the beast towered above them, and all but Saelden seemed to grow roots on their boots. Now you will not believe this, but I think he may have grown taller sometime during all this. I am not sure if it was from the fright, or from drawing himself up with the pride of it all! _

I again had to laugh at the picture Eomer had me tracing in my mind. Saelden, with his chest thrown out and his head held high! I again bent my head to read. However, my smile faded quickly from my face as I continued reading Eomer's words.

_Now I come to the part of this missive, which I wish not to write, my dear, sweet Maeren. It is with a very heavy heart that I tell you of your father's death. I am very sorry to have to impart the news to you in a letter, and so far away from you that I cannot put my arms around you and hold you as you weep, for weep I know you will._

_When the King bade the people to leave to Helm's Deep, your father refused to leave his land. You know how he was—stubborn to a fault and loving his home. It was later found that he died there at the hands of Orcs and Dunlandings. By that time, your brothers were riding with the Eorlingas, and your sisters-in-law were at Helm's Deep, where most stayed until after all the fighting was done at the Black Gate. None knew of your father's death, and I'd not come to Rohan until after the King's coronation and wedding. I am sorry, I could not have told you sooner, Maeren. I could have brought you home instead of your having to go to that forsaken land of the Elves, wherever it may be. I hope it has not been too much of a hardship on you, my sweet girl. _

I dropped the letter into my lap and covered my face with my hands. My tears were coming in sobs now, and I could not control them at all. Aragorn was sitting in a chair opposite me, and he sat forward, very concerned. Elrond was up and at my side instantly, as were both twins.

They all began speaking at once, and I knew not who to answer, but it mattered not, because I could not speak through the choking tears anyway. I handed the letter to Elrond, pointing to the last paragraph in particular. He read it briefly.

"Her father was killed in the War," he announced to all who were gathered around me.

There were muted sounds of sympathy and hands of support from all around, giving me pats and squeezes. Elrond parted the sea of well-wishers, and he scooped me up suddenly and carried me bodily from the room. He took me up the stairs and to my room, sitting me on the bed.

"Should I send for Nivia to help you undress, or can you manage it for yourself?" he asked me sympathetically.

"I can manage," I uttered tearfully.

"I am returning in the amount of time it will take me to brew some Valerian tea—_with_ honey—and I expect you to be dressed for bed by the time I get back. If you are not, I will help you myself. I will return shortly."

I nodded and rose and got myself ready for bed. I knew Elrond would do exactly as he said. If I had not dressed myself in a nightdress by the time he returned, he would do so himself. Enough time had elapsed since the birth of Leofa that my modesty had returned, and I wished not for that type of attention from him any more.

The Lord of Imladris was true to his word, and he returned straight away, bearing a steaming cup of tea steeped with Valerian. Thankfully, he had put in a liberal amount of honey, so it was not vile tasting as his Valerian brews tended to be otherwise. I drank it slowly. He sat on the edge of my bed as I did so.

"You needn't stay, Elrond," I said as a tear slid down my cheek. "I will truly be fine."

"I know that you will," he told me, "but you need not be alone, unless you want to be so."

"What about Leofa?" I asked vaguely.

"He is well taken care of, young one," he said kindly.

"No, Elrond," I said quickly, "you misunderstand me. He will never know his other grandfather. He will miss out on knowing another fine person. And you will be gone soon. Who will guide Leofa with the wisdom of the elder?" My sobs grew loud once more. Elrond drew me to his chest and held me tightly. I suddenly felt his uneven breathing—he was weeping with me. I pulled away from him, angry with myself that I had drawn him so far into sorrow with me.

"Elrond, I am sorry!" I exclaimed through my tears. "I meant not to cause you such hurt. Please forgive me."

"There is naught to forgive, young one," he told me. His face was stained with tears, and I hated seeing him so bereft. "You mention nothing I have not thought of myself. When I sail, I leave the baby behind. And not just Leofa, but Leofa's mother as well." He stroked my cheek with his long, smooth fingers, and smiled into my face, looking at me as if trying to make sure he would remember me always. "I have become quite attached to you. It will rend my heart in two when I leave you. If not for the fact that I will be joining the one I love best in the entire world, I would not do it. She will help me heal from my hurt when I join her. Worry not about me, Maeren; I will be fine. Celebrian will dry my tears and still my weeping heart. As for Leofa not knowing any elder kin, that is unfortunate, but I am sure you will be able to find a replacement grandfather for him, among the Rohirrim. So many good and old riders there are still, willing to share the lore of your people." Elrond smiled through his weeping, and he caused me to smile too. I held him nearer again—I could not hold him close enough of a sudden.

A quiet rap on the door caught our attention, drawing us apart. I invited whomever it was to enter, and Aragorn poked his head in the door.

"Is there anything any of us can do for you, Maeren?" he asked gently. "Anything at all?"

"No, Aragorn," I replied. "Only bring Leofa to me for just a few minutes? You may have him back—I only wish to kiss him goodnight."

"I will bring him to you now," Aragorn said, and he closed the door quietly. Very soon, the door opened wide, and Aragorn brought Leofa into my room, but Elladan, who was carrying the cradle, followed him. Aragorn was giving Leofa back to me tonight—of all nights.

Elrond had risen from beside me, and as soon as I realized the gift Aragorn was giving to me, I hopped from the bed, and smiling through my tears, and sobbing besides, I hugged the King of Gondor, as hard as I might, careful not to squish the wonderful son we had between us.

"You know not what this means to me," I half cried and half whispered into his ear. "I take back any thoughts I may ever have had of you being anything of a tyrant!" I stepped back to look into his face. I laughed at my own jest and sobbed and hiccuped, too. Aragorn smiled sheepishly, not sure what to do with me at all. I gently took our son from his father and cradled him to me. I looked back into Aragorn's eyes and thanked him sincerely one more time, then I got back into my bed, with my son in my arms.

Aragorn came and knelt beside my bed, and I wondered at his actions, but I was too bewildered with grief to wonder very much or long about it. As it turns out, he only wanted to tell Leofa good night.

Aragorn looked at me finally, and said, "I may be gone before he rises in the morn, so I wanted to be sure and get hugs before he slept. I wish to memorize every aspect of him, so I can tell Arwen all about our son to the tiniest detail. I have the letter you wrote to her tucked away in my pack—worry not, I will see that it does not get lost in the bottom of things, I promise. Did you see the portrait Haldan sketched of Leofa? It is a good likeness is it not?" I agreed that it was. "I will have it framed and hung in my private chambers, so it will seem as if he is near me, at least. You will be coming in the spring, as planned?" I nodded that I was. "Good. Elrond will arrange an escort for you." He gave Leofa one last quick kiss on the cheek and stood and strode from the room. The others followed him, after first offering me condolences for my father's passing. It seemed I was suddenly alone in the chamber with my son.

The room appeared empty and huge, and I was alone with my thoughts of home and my family. The sharp stab of pain in my heart precluded any deep thoughts, as did the Valerian in the tea Elrond had plied me with, truth be known. I rose and gently placed my now sleeping baby into his cradle, covering him carefully with his little blanket. He looked like such an angel lying there in his bed. I swayed where I stood, so decided it was past time to get into my own bed. I slowly got covered up and snuggled down into the pillow on my side. I thought of the many times my father had put me to bed, after my mother had died. I was thirteen by then, but I especially needed the comfort at bedtime. I tried to act the mature girl, but I could not stop the tears from coming at night especially. Nighttime was when my mother used to take time out to sit beside me for a few minutes and talk about anything I wished. We would never talk for long, but she would reassure me about things I feared or doubted about myself. So after her death, my father took over that role, and I loved him all the more for it. It was never quite the same, but it was wonderful in its difference_. _

_I could not believe he was gone from this earth! I would never see him again!_

All these months—so many times—I had cursed myself for not going home to Rohan, but then had ultimately commended myself for doing the right thing in coming to Imladris, for sparing my father the shame of my sin of having a child without having a husband. And my father had not even been alive when the child had been conceived! The irony of it all would have made me laugh were I not so sorrowful. How had his death gone unnoticed by so many for so long?

If ever anyone would want to believe in fate, it would be me, and it would certainly be now. I had been fated to come here to Imladris. However, the reason was a mystery to me, unless it was to see a beautiful, peaceful place or to experience the Elven way of doing things. I wondered if I would ever truly know the answer to this riddle.

But I could not wonder for long. Elrond's elixir was doing its work on me, and I was near incoherent. I was quickly following Leofa into dreamland. I sincerely hoped that both of our dreams this night would be pleasant. I had no wish to visit 'nightmareland'—it was such an unpleasant place, and I had been there before many times and wished not to return.

I closed my eyes finally, giving in to Lady Valerian. I hoped she was kind to me. After all, I had never done anything to incur her wrath, had I?

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Papa, what are you doing here?" I asked him. "You're not supposed to be here. You're dead now. I just read Eomer's letter telling me of your passing just this night." I was sitting up in my bed, and my father was sitting in a chair beside Leofa's cradle, lifting up a corner of the blanket covering my son and peeking beneath it to see his tiny face.

_"I know I'm dead, my darling girl," he answered back, "but that's what dreaming's for, you know; for souls, such as mine, that did not get to tell their best girl goodbye before they passed on. That is why I am here now, in your dream. Lady Valerian has indeed been good to you tonight. She allowed me entrance into your mind, that I may whisper all my best to you for one last time." He lowered the blanket back against the sleeping child and looked at me once more. _

_"It seems much has befallen my girl since last I laid my two eyes on her. Maeren, surprised I am at you! 'Tis indeed shame I feel—at myself! That you felt you could not come home to me in your time of trial speaks ill of how I raised you! How could I feel aught but pride and joy at this precious bundle in this cradle? Leofa is indeed a fine name, too! I did chuckle a bit when I saw how you thumbed your nose at the list of names the King sent for you to choose from! What cheek he has—even if he is the King. He should know at least enough of the Rohirrim to know 'tis the mother's right to name the child!" _

_"You saw that, Papa?" I exclaimed. "But how?" _

_He chuckled softly. "Death tis not a'tall like what one thinks it 'twould be," he said with irony in his voice. "I always believed I would go and join up with your precious mother, but I've not seen her yet. I suppose I was not the best soul on the land, and I must be setting some things to rights. Perhaps Eru knew you were in trouble and needed your Papa before I was to be taken wherever your mother is; I truly know not. But here I have been, and truth be known, I've minded it not at all, for I've been with my best girl when she's needed me most, even if she's not known I was here." _

_"I suppose you've seen me in some less than proper moments," I told him, shamefully. _

_"Fear not dear one," he declared. "I am your Papa still, but my eyes are open wide at last, and I care not about things that don't concern me. You are grown and have your own mind—and can make it up on your own; what you do is your own business. I only come near when I sense your love of the child intensely, or I feel your sadness the same way. Happy I am that you have come to be with the Elves. I had never seen nor dealt with the Elves before, but a fine lot they are—especially that Haldan. A fine lad he is, is he not?" _

_"Yes, Papa," I agreed, "a fine lad of about four thousand some odd years old." I laughed and so did he. _

_"Yes, Maeren, these Elves are a mysterious lot, that is for sure," he concurred. "Elrond is a regal being, but a fine gentleman, indeed. I have great respect for the Elf, as I can tell you do, as well. However, I have great concern about his son, Maeren. Being dead, I can sense a great many things you may not be privy to. Elladan is a fine young Elf, to be sure. But he is in love with you, my sweet girl. Do not be fooling yourself any longer, by telling yourself that he isn't. I can see it, and if you look back over your time with him, you will see it too. In your times of trouble, he is always there. If you are ill or hurting, he is there giving you comfort and ease if he can. He longs to give his love to you—in all ways. I am afraid the time has come that you must either take him into your heart or set him free. Either way will hurt you both, for even though you deny it, you love him as well." _

_"No, Papa, you are wrong—" I began. _

_"Do not be interrupting me, daughter," said my father lightly and with a smile. "I am not done speaking to you yet. As I was saying, you will deny it, but you are in love with Elladan as well. As I also said, I sense these things, because I am dead. Don't ask me why this is so, it merely is. Anyway, I wish I could tell the future, but being dead does not allow me to do that, wouldn't you know, so I cannot tell you how either choice would turn out, whichever way you choose. You simply must decide." _

_My father got up from the chair, but bent over the cradle, and gave Leofa a kiss on the cheek. He then walked over to me. _

_"I wish we would have had more time on this earth together, darling girl," my father said. "Know that I always loved you with all of my heart and I always will. And when I do meet up with your mother, I will hug her good and hard for you!"_ He bent and hugged me and kissed me fiercely and was suddenly gone.

_He vanished as if he were never there, and I was suddenly awake—sitting up in my bed—as if I hadn't been asleep at all._

Had I been dreaming? Of course I had! Hadn't I? Or hallucinating perhaps. That was always a possibility, I suppose, considering the shock I'd had and the Valerian on top of that. What an incredible hallucination—or dream—or whatever it was! It was wonderful! At least the first part of it was. I was not so sure I enjoyed the last few minutes of it, however—the part where my father insisted I was in love with Elladan. That was preposterous! _Wasn't it?_

He was right about the Elf, though. Whenever I had times of trial or hurt, Elladan was always there to give me comfort or ease. From the very beginning, he had been there. I had certainly liked him well enough even then, but I had never loved him. Had I? No, I had not. I did not. I do not._ I don't think._

I did not want to love him. It was completely too complicated to love an Elf—especially a Peredhil! All the choices and mortality and immortality! I wanted no part of it. Above all, I would not be responsible for hurting someone I _knew_ I loved deeply—Elrond. Were I to allow myself to have feelings for Elladan, or to allow him to return those feelings, it would be Elrond—and Celebrian—who would suffer. Elrond had already suffered enough over Arwen's decision; I would not be the reason for him to suffer over another of his children making the same decision that his daughter had. And if Elladan made the decision to live a mortal life, chances were that Elrohir would do the same. They were twins—each almost half of a whole, it seemed at times. I could not see one staying and one going. No, there would be no relationship between Elladan and I. It simply would not be.

I laid myself back down in my bed, nestling my head deep into my pillow. I lay there for quite some time, trying to rid my thoughts of Elves and love, but the subjects just kept spinning round and round in my head. I finally slept when the first tinges of pink were reflecting on the far wall of my room.

I had no more visitors—no fathers, no Elves, no Lady Valerians; just the nothingness of sleep at last.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	39. Departing and Drinking

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

I followed my ghostly father's advice and reached a decision that night. I decided that I must set Elladan free of me, once and for all. The trick was in getting the Elf to leave me alone long enough to arrange it.

As I grew more insistent that he desist showing his attentions to me, he grew more insistent in showing me even more attention! He began telling me that he loved me not long after Aragorn's departure, and I kept insisting to him that he did not. I definitely told him that I loved him not, that I was ever only his fondest friend. It made no difference to him—he kept after me—and I kept insisting that I would not go against his father's wishes in his father's house. It was as simple as that. The subject was closed.

The months were going by quickly, much to my despair. The spring thaw was almost upon us, and with that would come time for departure—mine and Leofa's to Gondor, and the Elves from Imladris to set sail. I wished not to be gloomy nor to let sadness overtake my last days with the Elves I held dear, but it was hard to keep tears at bay when I wanted to beg them to stay with me—to never leave me. Then I would think of how selfish I was being. They had been living for centuries without the people they loved most in the entire world. How could I ask them to stay, merely for me?

Our departures were now only a week away and tensions were high in all of us. On this particular evening, I had just retired to my room, after having fed Leofa and spending the evening with the others in the library. I put Leofa down and had wandered out onto the veranda for a breath of fresh air. Elladan was already there; he had apparently come up over the railing as he sometimes did. At least he hadn't frightened me this time, thanks be. There was only so much fright a woman's heart could take in one lifetime.

He made his customary approach, and I made my customary retreat, but as usual, I was in his arms before I knew it, and I was hard pressed not to give in to him tonight. How I wanted him! If he only knew how hard it was for me to resist him, he would have tried just a bit harder. Thank Eru he was not the churlish sort and did not press me when I turned him away. Of course, again tonight it could not be, so I gently nudged myself out of his embrace and walked a short distance away.

"Maeren, why do you push me away?" Elladan asked sadly. I could tell his mood was different tonight. Something was changed, but I knew not what it was.

"I push you away because I must, Elladan," I said in reply. "We've had this conversation before, you know. It always ends the same way."

"I know," he said. "I have hope that one day it will end differently. I love you, Maeren. Why won't you see that?"

"Because I dare not," I said. "Because I will not. Your father—"

"Cease using my father as an excuse!" he interrupted me angrily. "He is not the true reason you will not open your heart to me. You know it deep within yourself."

I turned to look at him, not believing it was Elladan from whom these hurtful words were coming. I walked back toward him and stopped directly in front of him, searching his face for the Elf that I knew. He was hurt—that was the only explanation for his unkind remarks, but that did not take away the sting with which they pierced my heart.

"What is the reason, then?" I asked him quietly. "Tell _me_, if you see it so clearly."

His wrath softened, but his face was still angry. "You have been hurt badly in your life. First your husband and son were taken from you. Then this business with Estel. You have every right to be afraid, but please don't let your fear keep us apart."

I was incredulous. For once, Dustin had not even crossed my mind. And I did not even feel guilty, truth be known! Elladan was so convinced he was right, though, I wasn't sure he would believe me were I to defend myself with the truth. However, it was high time for him to know the entire truth of it. Our final parting, if I had any say in the matter, was only a few days away.

"All right, Elladan," I said directly. "I will give you the truth. My _first and foremost _reason is because it is in your father's best interest. I was not but a very casual acquaintance of yours when Aragorn married Arwen, so I really know not your reaction to their marriage and your sister's decision to embrace a mortal life." The expression on Elladan's face showed me that he was unaware I knew the details of his family's 'inheritance' as children of a Peredhil.

I went on with my impassioned speech. "However, shortly after I disclosed my condition to Aragorn, and then Arwen, your father berated me in a most beastly fashion, letting me know how much he did not appreciate my part in deceiving his daughter—especially when there was still time for her to forego her union to the _mortal_. He apologized in short order and explained all in great detail. Elladan, you saw not his face, nor did you hear his anguished words when he spoke of leaving a part of himself here, when he went to The Undying lands to be with your mother. I am sorry, but it is not in my heart, as a woman, as a parent—as a human being—to put him through that again, because of something I have control over. I will not do it, Elladan; I will not."

I took a deep breath and continued. "In the second place, and of equal importance, is the fact that I am mortal and you are an Elf. In just a few years I will begin to age; my hair will grow silver and coarse; my face will wrinkle; my body will bend and sag. There will come a time when Leofa will look older than you do, Elladan. Think about that. Will you still wish to take me to your bed—an old, wrinkled woman whose skin is too thin and whose breasts sag to her waist? Will I have to watch you grow distant and know that you leave me at night to go to the ageless Elves who can hold you in the beauty you wish for, but gave up to be with a mortal?"

Elladan had turned away from me and now stood at the railing, his head hanging, his chin resting on his chest. I went to him and placed my hands on his arms, turning him around to face me. The tears that he wept didn't surprise me. They matched the ones I was weeping.

"And what about you, Elladan?" I continued.

"Say no more," he pleaded with me, whispering. But I would have none of it. He had asked me repeatedly why I withdrew from him. I was finally going to tell him what he asked me to say. What he desperately did not want to hear.

"You would have to watch as I grew older. It would pain you to see it, I know that it would. You love me, I know you do—of that I have no doubt. But it would be too painful, do you not think so? And death would part us, Elladan. Why would you purposely do such a thing to yourself when it is not necessary? Why do you not leave me be and go with your father to The Undying Lands? Find yourself a wonderful and beautiful Elven woman to love forever. That is how it is meant to be. You know this. Why do you not do this?" My voice trailed off with the tremor of tears.

"I cannot do it because it is too late, Maeren!" he wept. "I love _you_, not some Elven woman. Yes, all the things you are saying are true—it will all be painful. But if you think that _this_ is not painful, then you simply are not paying attention." He lifted a hand to his eyes, I suppose to hide his tears from me. My heart broke. I hugged him to me; I could not help myself. He withdrew from me and walked to another part of the railing, his back to me once again. But he was not finished with his questions of me. He turned to face me once again.

"And if I go to The Undying Lands, Maeren, as you request," Elladan said, his voice tremulous, his blue eyes swimming, "what am I supposed to do about having a son of my own? What if I should want to become a father, Maeren? That is something I will never be if I sail. Is that your wish for me? That I never be a parent? That I never know the same type of fierce love you feel for Leofa? Even were I to find an Elven woman whose touch I could bear, she would not conceive a child with me. Elves care not for such _trivialities_ as young ones any longer, Maeren. And you forget—I am but half Elf—the other half is Human. That part of me longs for what all Humans long for—home and family. Should I go to the Undying Lands, I never will know that. Is that your wish for me?"

I had honestly never given his last argument a thought. As much as he doted on Leofa, all the Elves doted on the baby. I hadn't realized Elladan's feelings went deeper than that. Yet I knew what I had to say to him. It still did not change the basic facts.

"I am sorry, Elladan," I said resolutely. "I cannot betray your father. I simply cannot."

He rolled his tortured eyes and turned around, apparently finished trying to reason with me, since I was being unreasonable, it seemed.

"Even if your father did not figure into this," I said to his back, "I cannot doom you to death, when there is no need of it—not when you can sail the sea with your father and Elrohir, and reunite with your mother; live the rest of your life in peace with them. It will be a wonderful life, Elladan. Just think of it!" He again turned to face me.

"Yes," he said as if disgusted, "so wonderful!" His sarcasm pierced my heart. I could see the last vestiges of hurt drain from his face, being replaced instead by the less vulnerable emotion of anger. "Elrohir is not going with father now, nor has he committed to sailing at all. I would be lying if I told you I did not long to see my mother again—I do miss her—but she would understand my absence, just as she will understand Arwen's absence. I have no doubt of that. But if nobility is what gets you through your life, then so be it, Maeren. I am finished beating my head against the wall of your stubbornness. I will go with my father to The Undying Lands, but he will get no joy from it. I will remind him night and day of what he has forced me to lose." He paused for a moment, looking at me with the hurt and anger I hated seeing in his eyes. "I will see you before we leave, but not before. I cannot bear to be in your presence any longer."

And with that he stormed from the veranda and left the room, slamming the door. Leofa woke with a start and a scream, wailing into the night with the terror of the sudden explosion that had rocked his dreams. I was left staring off into the night sky at the millions of stars glittering there with false cheerfulness, while tears streamed down my face.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The day was finally upon us.

I woke up weeping, but I was determined I would not be a source of torment for the Elves I loved so dearly. I briefly nursed my infant, and then I dressed my baby and myself. In preparation for this journey I had taken the liberty some weeks back, of having new shirts and tunics and leggings sewn and fitted for me. I kept the fact in mind while I designed them, that I still nursed my baby, so I had them made accordingly with over bibs—quite clever on my part, I might add, if I would not be thought too boastful in the saying of it.

I combed and knotted my hair and dabbed at my eyes, making sure all traces of the tears and their tracks were gone from my face. I would not weep another tear while in the presence of those departing for The Undying Lands. I had promised myself this as a solemn vow, and I meant not to break it. The Elves had sorrow enough in their hearts; I would not add to it.

Elves came for the rest of the things that would go with Leofa and me on our journey to Gondor. They took Leofa's cradle and some bags I had packed with a few of the clothes hanging in the wardrobe or that had been taken from the chest in the bathing room. Most of the clothing I left where it was—I had used it when I had been large with Leofa, and it no longer fit me. There would be a wagon along, and it would carry bulkier items that seemed to trail in my wake wherever I went. Holding Leofa, I took one last look over the now emptier room. I almost shook with tears; holding them at bay was taking great strength.

Leofa was certainly cheerful this morning! I wandered out to the veranda holding my son and watching the sun peek over the crest of the mountains. The serene sight of the valley calmed me as I hoped that it would. Leofa squealed with delight as a swallow swooped through the air a few feet away. At the bird's sudden appearance, he waved his arms, and attempted to clap his hands—he almost had that motion down! I laughed, and he looked at me with his smile—his top teeth peeked out at me, their pearliness bright against the tiny pink gums. He clapped his wet fingers upon my cheeks, and even clammy as they were, I delighted in their feel upon my face. I cooed to my son, and he laughed at me then. I hugged him to me and kissed his baby-fat neck, which he scrunched between his shoulder and head, as he tried to keep me from tickling him with the bone of my chin, as I so liked to do.

He settled himself down upon my shoulder, seeming to sense my melancholy mood at last. I sighed and turned away from the scenic beauty of the Rivendell dawn and made my way down the stairs. I walked to the back of the house, taking my son and myself to the stables where the others gathered, to be off on our separate journeys.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The courtyard around the stable was bustling with activity. There were two separate camps, it seemed: those headed out with me, and those going with Elrond to the Grey Havens, and ultimately, to The Undying Lands. Elrond was, along with Glorfindel, overseeing all the details concerning the trip he was undertaking, so he did not see me arrive. I was afforded the opportunity to simply gaze at him—drink in the sight of him for one last time.

He was dressed as he had been when he arrived back in Imladris when he was returning from Gondor—looking as he had in his warrior days. His hair was braided in the humbler fashion of the others in his party, and he wore the simpler garb of the others as well. I could see his mind was on his business, making sure he had all he wanted with him for all time. He would not be returning here ever again, and he was ensuring he left nothing of import behind.

Elrohir was heading up our party, and was likewise seeing to all our provisions and traveling supplies. I knew his heart had to be breaking inside his chest. His father and his twin were both leaving today, and he was staying behind—at least for now. As far as I knew, he had not completely ruled out sailing west; he was waiting at least until Arwen and Aragorn had passed on until he made the journey—if he made the journey at all. Only time would tell whether he would ultimately join them, but for now, Elrohir felt the pain I was feeling—only doubly or triply so.

And then there was Elladan. He was readying his mare for the journey. His face was set as if it was stone; his eyes were glittering as ice—very cold, yet threatening to thaw at any minute. True to his word, he'd not seen nor spoken to me since that dreadful night on my veranda, and my heart still ached from his words.

I had sought Elrond out the following day, seeking not only guidance after the debacle of my conversation with his son, but also needing solace and counsel; that I had done the right thing. I told the Elf lord of Elladan's words—of his professed love for me; of how he said it was too late for him to fall in love with an Elven woman, for he loved me too well already. I hesitated but a moment over whether to impart the news to his father that Elladan wanted children; but then, I decided that if Elladan must hurt for his father's feelings, then the same should apply to the father. I could tell Elrond had never entertained the idea—as I had not—that Elladan would have given much thought to having children of his own. But when Elrond learned that his son had not only given them thought, but wanted them desperately, I could see that it struck him to the core—just as it had me.

Suddenly Haldan was upon me, in full healer mode and whisked Leofa from me, perusing him closely for any hidden ill. He sat the baby on the back of the wagon, holding him securely around his small waist and looked deeply into his eyes. Leofa stared back at him, as if in a trance, and then suddenly smiled his two-toothy smile, and Haldan beamed his angelic one. He picked Leofa up from the wagon and placed him on one hip.

"A fitter child there is not—upon the face of Middle Earth!" the healer declared, as he turned to me. He then asked, "Have you the supply of herbs I packed for you? And the minerals?"

I laughed. "Yes, Haldan, I do! I suppose Leofa will be sixteen before I will use them all up!"

"That is good," Haldan said with a smile. "And I told you how to store them, so they will always stay fresh?"

"You did," I replied, "at least six times."

"Oh, very efficient of me!" Haldan declared. "I am glad I have not shirked my duty." I laughed again.

"Now it is your turn," Haldan said, looking into my eyes with mock seriousness. "Yes," he said, his brows drawn together, "the plague you've been carrying is still with you, I see. However, the cure I prescribe for you is fraught with peril—at least to your eyes, it probably is. Walk with me," he commanded, seemingly serious all at once. He lowered his voice, even though we were probably out of earshot of most of the Elves; and besides, they were much too busy to be paying us any attention anyway.

"The cure I prescribe for sweet Maeren is this," Haldan said, as he stopped to face me. "She needs to find a kind, gentle man, and settle down with him. She needs to lower those walls with which she protects that poor, battered heart of hers, and allow him to love her, so that she can allow herself to love him back. And then, she will be whole again and will no longer feel so alone in the world. Trust Haldan the healer of Imladris, Maeren. He was once told about this by one who is very wise."

I gave Haldan a skeptical look. "And this will cure what ails me?" I asked him. "Just who is this very wise one?"

"It will cure what ails you, and I cannot reveal that secret at this time," Haldan replied.

"I will have no other time in which to get the answer to the secret," I retorted, trying a bit of browbeating to get my way. It didn't work.

"Rules are rules," Haldan told me. "I cannot reveal my sources, until the time is right. Sorry."

"You are only jesting, that is why you cannot name the wise one," I rebuked him. "Because there is no wise one."

At that very moment, Elrond called everyone to attention. It was time. I had been successfully distracted, and it was now time for us all to depart. We made our way back to the others, and Haldan stopped beside Dori. I would ride my faithful Rohirric mare again. I had begun riding her several weeks ago, in preparation for the journey—so as not to be quite so sore from the saddle this time. I would have Leofa strapped to me in a special-made harness constructed of strong serge and lined with a very soft silk. It was very snug, not only for warmth, but to keep his head and neck from jarring about so badly. Depending on his mood, he could sit up and face outward—and watch the passing scenery, or inward—toward me, where he could be cuddled or sleep against my shoulder . I could also rework it so that he could be laying down. It was very lightweight. It was simply made of cloth. _Leave it to the Elves to invent something to ease my life._

Elrond joined us, and he lifted Leofa away from Haldan. He walked a short distance away from the group of us all and was speaking to the child. What he said, I know not, but he was smiling, and I could hear the sing-song voice he always used when he played with my son. Leofa, for his part, was delighted—as he always was to go to his grandfather. He would be bewildered when he realized that Elrond would not be coming to play with him any longer. I was glad my son was only a small baby, and the hurt would be less and short-lived.

Elrond did not keep Leofa long and within only a few minutes, he was back, settling my son once again within my arms. The Elf lord's eyes were bright, but he shed no tears. He was in full warrior mode right now—emotions did not figure into this picture—almost. He came and stood before me, his visage unreadable. Suddenly I saw his heart in his eyes—he blinked and swallowed and smiled—a grimace almost—and then he was once more under supreme control. I swore to myself not to let him down, and I steeled my heart.

"Have a safe journey," he said, "and a wonderful life. Know that you are forever in my heart and in my thoughts, and that I will love you forever." He bent and kissed my brow and moved to the person next to me.

Haldan was in front of me now, to bid me farewell. He smiled sweetly, but the healer was still in evidence.

"Remember the curative I left with you," he advised. "Please do not forget the ingredients, nor the exact dosage, for all parts are important to your cure. I love you sweet Maeren and would see you well. Farewell, my lady, keep well and keep the King on his toes in regards to this child. I have no doubt that you will."

"See to yourself as well, young man," I told him, my healer emerging as well. "I hope you are not inclined toward seasickness, but if you are, I believe a bit of peppermint tea may be in order to settle the stomach, would you not agree?"

Haldan laughed heartily. "Indeed I do believe that tea may come in handy, but for Elrond and the other—I will not be needing any." I laughed at his bravado—land-stranded Haldan? I would believe that when I was told of it! He hugged me tightly, tweaked Leofa's nose gently, and then proceeded to the person next to me, as Elrond had.

I gasped slightly, for Elladan was now before me. Elladan, with his face still of stone and his ice bright eyes. He hardly spared me a glance at first, he went directly for Leofa. He held out his hands toward the child, who smiled brightly and leaned toward his 'uncle', eager to be held by this favorite person of his. Elladan, like his father before him, took the baby a short distance away and began chatting with him. However, unlike his father, he could not keep his voice bright and cheerful. He suddenly buried his face in Leofa's shoulder, trying to regain the composure that had fled him. Leofa was delighted with this turn of events. He had free rein over this Elf's wonderful hair! Since the child spent every waking minute with his hands in his mouth, considering he was teething, his fists were drenched and slimy, so the result was less than pleasant. Elladan did not notice until he went to lift Leofa away from him and give him back to me. The baby's hands were snarled in Elladan's hair, so I had to help untangle the long silken strands; it gave me a chance to speak with him.

"Elladan," I said softly, so hopefully no one would overhear, "I meant not to hurt you. I hope you forgive me one day. I will ever hold a place in my heart for you. I hope you know that."

"If only that place in your heart held love for me Maeren," he said, "I would be a very happy Elf."

"There," I said as I got the final strand of the dark hair unwound from my son's fingers. I ignored Elladan's remark; I could not tell him that it did hold love for him—just not the deep abiding love it would take to match his own for me.

Elladan enveloped both me and Leofa into his arms then, embracing us both with love I could feel as if it were a living, breathing thing. He pulled back and looked at the baby, who looked back at him with interested eyes. I laughed through the tears I swore I would not shed.

"You had better take care of your mother," he said, "or you will have me to answer to—somehow." Leofa laughed and tried to clap his hands again. Elladan laughed, then bent and kissed my lips one last time and moved on. There was nothing more to say.

And on and on the farewells went, until all had been told goodbye.

Elrond gave the order for all to mount up, or otherwise take their places on wagon seats, so all did as they had been directed. I watched the Lord of Imladris from my seat atop Dori and saw him cast his last gaze around the land he'd called home for thousands of years. He did not dwell long upon it and as quickly as he might, he threw his hand in the air, motioning for his group to be off and on their way to their destination. Elrohir did likewise, and we all kicked our mounts up to a soft canter. As soon as all riders and wagons were out of the gates and into the open, Elrond and Elladan on one side, and Elrohir on the other, reined in their horses and waited for their respective groups to thunder past them. I admit, out of curiosity, I reined Dori in and lagged back, wanting to see what they were going to do—and preparing to pick up the pieces of the Elf left in my camp while I was about it.

The three Elves looked at one another briefly and smiled, placing their hands over their hearts, then gestured outwards in an Elven show of great respect. Elrohir let out a warrior's cry, then caused his horse to rear, and his father and twin echoed his actions. All three then rode away from each other, and I kicked Dori up into a gallop before Elrohir could become aware I had been watching.

I was back with our set well before the Elf caught up with us. He rode to the front of the group, which was not a large one, incidentally—numbering twelve individuals, counting Elrohir and me—plus two Elves driving a wagon. I stayed where I was, toward the middle, letting him stay focused on being the leader. I would not help him with my presence right now, that was for certain. The time would come later when his defenses would come down, and his pain would be raw. I would be much more help then, of that I felt sure.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

This first day was uneventful, and I was certainly glad I had Leofa to keep me occupied. Every time my thoughts would stray to Elrond or Haldan or Elladan, Leofa would either laugh or cry or somehow garner my attention, and my thoughts would be brought back to the here and now. _I wondered if my ghostly father was still at work? Distracting me seemed the sort of thing he may have had a hand in. _

However, the first night was not uneventful—would that I wish it had been. Our fearless leader felt the need to celebrate our first night in the wilderness and pulled out three bottles of wine, which he commenced to downing all alone. My attempts to talk him out of it were in vain, and in fact he gave me a piece of his mind—two or three pieces of it, actually. I only wish he'd not shared it with the entire camp, but that is neither here nor there any longer; water under the bridge; a done deal; all the old clichés.

"Elrohir," I crooned, trying to sweet-talk the second, almost empty bottle from his grip. I knew we'd not get far tomorrow with our leader suffering the nausea and painful head that accompanies too much alcohol consumption, so I had been trying very hard to slow his drinking down. "Could I have some of this, or do you refuse to share?"

"Oh, sure thing," he slurred, "go ahead and take my wine. You took my brother, why not my drink as well?"

"You silly Elf," I laughed, "whatever are you talking about?" I knew good and well what he was talking about, but I could not believe it was what he meant. I should have known better than to argue with one drunken, but I was not thinking, apparently.

"Elladan," he said, not so quietly. "You know—my brother? The one who looks just like me? The one who swore his love to you, and _you_ told him to go to The Undying Lands? _That_ brother of mine."

"Elrohir," I whispered, "please speak not so loudly."

"Why not, Maeren?" he asked, even as he raised his voice. "These Elves can hear you even do you whisper! And why must you whisper? Surely it does not shame you that my brother loved you? He was worthy of your love, was he not?"

I could not help myself, my anger was rising, even though I knew the futility of arguing with one under the influence of too much wine.

"Perhaps it was the other way around, Elrohir!" I admonished him, "And besides, the last I heard, it was _you _encouraging_ me_ to dissuade him from doing just that, lest he break his father's heart!"

Elrohir's face fell. "Oh, that is right," Elrohir said, his mood suddenly saddening. He was well and truly drunk. "I had forgotten about poor, poor Father." He began to sniff. The dear Elf was near to weeping. A drunken Elf on a crying jag—just my luck.

"Well, you needn't feel badly for him, for your brother is with him," I foolishly said.

"Yes!" Elrohir shouted. "And that is all your fault! You and your sultry ways. Those big, brown eyes! You bewitched him! He told me you did!"

"I am no witch, Elrohir," I protested quietly. "It was just a figure of speech he was using. Please, just lie down on your bedroll and give me the bottle. You need to sleep so you can lead us tomorrow." I again grabbed for the neck of the wine bottle, but he held it at arm's length away from me.

"Why did you tell him to go?" Elrohir asked me, nearly in tears. "He was going to come with us to Gondor. He was going to stay with me in Imladris until Arwen and Estel—till they were gone. I hate you right now, Maeren. I hate you so much it hurts." He did lie down on his bedroll then, and buried his face in his blanket. His body was wracked with sobs. I sat down next to him, wanting to comfort him. I placed my hand on his back, but he twisted himself quickly and grabbed my wrist, nearly pulling me down on top of him.

"Oh, I am sorry, dear Maeren," he said loudly, but with contrition, his speech slurring badly. "I do not really hate you. I am just so completely bereft. I know not what I am saying at all any more."

"It is all right, Elrohir," I said to him sweetly. "It is just the wine speaking. Men often say things they don't mean when it clouds their minds like it has clouded yours."

"Call me not a man!" the Elf exclaimed, echoing something Elladan had said to me once and sounding almost exactly as he had that time. "It makes my guts hurt when you say such a thing."

"My poor, sick Elf," I said wryly, "tis not the vile name that has your guts in a knot. It's too much wine that's done that to you, I'm afraid."

"Ai! Elladan always stopped me afore I took in too much—I had headaches aplenty, but never that vile retching. Oh Maeren, think you I might retch? I've never done such before. I fear it may kill me—my stomach feels like it wants to slide up my gullet and fall out of my mouth." He flopped over onto his back and breathed a huge, heavy sigh, typical of one not far from heaving.

_How had this Elf gotten through almost four thousand years without retching even one time in his immortal life?_

Elrohir groaned, and I knew it would be not long before his stomach would empty whether he was ready or not. I forced him to rise—I was lucky he was an Elf and lighter than he looked—and, pausing to grab his water skin which was laying to one side, I started walking him unsteadily into the trees, so that he may not disturb the others any more than he already had.

"Maeren," he slurred, "I love you."

"Oh not you, too!" I declared.

"No, no, no," he echoed over and over. "Not _that_ way. I mean I love you. You are very kind and sweet, and you help people—oh Eru, I feel nasty!" And with that, he bent at the waist and retched for the first time in his long life.

And he did not die.

I held his hair back so that it wouldn't be fouled and when he was finished, I handed him his water skin. He frowned at me in confusion, as he stood there swaying slightly, so I explained that he should rinse his mouth. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in enlightenment at last, so he followed my directions. As soon as he was finished, I took the water skin from him, and headed back toward camp, but realized quickly that he wasn't following me—he was headed in the opposite direction.

"Elrohir," I called, "where are you going? The camp's this way."

"I _know _that dear, dear, Maeren," his disembodied voice said, as if humoring a small child, from somewhere in the trees, "but I wish to sit by the river for a spell. I will be there shortly."

I looked to the sky, wanting divine guidance I suppose—or perhaps a lightning bolt to end my pitiful life—I was so tired—but I began to follow him. I could not take the chance that the graceful, inebriated Elf may trip and fall into the Bruinen and find himself washed up Eru knew where in the morning.

I found him just a few minutes later, sprawled out on the incline of the bank well away from the river's edge. He was laying on his back, one of his arms flung over his eyes, as if to block out the light from the stars that might be too bright and causing pain in his head. Calling to him softly, I checked to make sure he was not completely unconscious.

"El-ro-hir—" I used my sing-song mother's voice.

"Wh-at—?" he answered me the same way.

I giggled at our silliness. "Nothing. I was simply checking to see if you were still among the living. After all, you did say you thought that retching was going to kill you."

"Do not remind me of what just happened to me!" he said as if he would die of embarrassment, or from the mere idea of something putrid having befallen him. "Never speak of it and me in the same sentence again, if you please. On second thought, never speak of it _to_ me again, whether I am directly involved or not."

I laughed and lay down on my side with my head propped up on my elbow.

"I truly am sorry I told Elladan to go to The Undying Lands, Elrohir," I began, "but I certainly don't have that much influence over him that he would do it simply because I voiced an opinion. Tell me that you believe what I just said."

"I don't know anything where Elladan is concerned anymore," Elrohir said sadly. "I never believed he would part from me for any reason. I just knew that when it came down to it this morning, he would change his mind and come with us to Gondor. I called his bluff, but he was not bluffing this time." He put his arm back over his eyes, and we said no more. Since he was much more sober now, I decided he would be fine, so I rose to leave. Before I could take a step, Elrohir grabbed my ankle gently.

"Maeren," he said, "please forgive all the drunken tripe I may have uttered. I do not blame you, nor are you to blame. Elladan has a mind of his own, and it is high time I accepted that. He made a different choice for his own reasons—none of which are your fault. I know that. I do. Thank you for being such a good friend to me and listening to me even when I was being unkind to you."

"What good are friends if we cannot count on them to see us through our hard times, Elrohir?" I asked him sincerely. "You have seen me through a couple of mine, and they were not pretty either. I appreciate you very much, and I do not think I have ever told you that. Now, will you be fine here, or are you ready to go back?"

"I am ready to go back," he said wanly.

I helped the tired and staggering Elf to his feet, and together we made it up the slight incline of the bank and back to the camp. I left him to get into his bedroll, and I sat down on mine while I checked on Leofa. The baby was sleeping soundly. He'd had a big day. He had risen early and ridden all day long—something he had never done before—and he had seen all sorts of new things. He had seen his first campfire and heard all the Elves sing and tell stories around it while I nursed him to sleep. I lay myself down finally, beside my small son. A few minutes later I was aware of someone dragging their bedroll over toward Leofa and me.

It was Elrohir. He was lonely.

But then, why wouldn't he be? He'd never been so alone in all of his life. Over three thousand years with his twin at his side, and tonight they were miles and miles apart—and tomorrow would only see the gap grow wider.

Elrohir put his bedroll down a few feet away, but I motioned him closer.

"Are you sure?" he asked me. "I want not to crowd you."

"It's no bother," I said. "I could use the warmth, truth be known. It's still a bit chilly at this time of year, but then you being an Elf, you probably don't notice that sort of thing."

As soon as he thought he'd be doing me a favor, he snuggled right up to me, and we slept back to back. I hoped that it helped him—gave him comfort on some level. I was not his twin, but I was a person, and I was alive and breathing. Hopefully, that counted for something.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	40. Distress and Determination

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

We traveled slowly on the return trip, compared to my journey _to_ Imladris. We had a wagon along this time. Elrohir told me we might split the company at some point and travel apart, going ahead of the slower moving vehicle if we so chose. Of course there were more frequent stops, so that I may feed Leofa. A more daring mother may have braved nursing on horseback. I, however brave I may have felt myself to be, have never thought myself particularly foolish—this child had teeth! Bottom teeth had erupted just opposite the top ones, and I thought not to tempt fate where my breasts were concerned. He was not above biting me as it was, and I did not want to chance an accidental clash with those choppers, especially if I could help it.

We were four weeks into our journey, and it was uneventful thus far. The Elves traveling with me were most respectful and helpful. I really did enjoy Elves very much. I almost enjoyed them as much as I did my own kind. However, there is still something about humankind that I miss when around Elves exclusively, and I could not wait to be back amongst men and women—particularly women, I suppose. That was what I was missing most, now that I thought about it. I had been very much lacking in female companionship, Elven or Human, for a very long time. I had only myself to thank for that, if I would remember. I had refused to have Nivia returned to my service, and she had asked to come back, I had been told. But I could not abide someone I could not trust, and I could never tell in which direction Nivia's loyalties were running.

I was beginning to fret about Elrohir, though. Instead of coming out of his mourning for his brother and father, he seemed to be falling deeper into it. I tried to get him to speak to me about it, especially in the evenings after all was quiet, but he would not. He would say he was fine, and that I should just believe him when he told me that. I hoped that once we reached Minas Tirith, seeing Aragorn and Arwen would help lift his spirits. If anyone could bring Elrohir out of the doldrums, it would be they. I could not put my finger on it, but Elrohir was almost looking as if he were ailing, and anyone who knew anything about Elves knew that they did not fall ill. Perhaps Elrohir was right, and I was looking for trouble where none existed. Yet I was a healer, and I did not take my healer's instincts and warnings lightly. Lately, when I considered my Elven friend Elrohir, my instincts were definitely nudging at me mysteriously.

Leofa was growing by leaps and bounds, and he would have leapt and bounded, had he been able to walk! When we would be stopped, either in the morning before leaving or in the evenings before bedding down, the Elves would all insist on having their turn in holding and playing with him. He was now six months old, and would lock his knees and 'stand' if you held him upright. If he was held under his arms, with his feet in your lap, he would 'squat and stand' over and over—and at quite a fast pace, too, if you'd allow it. Which you _would not do_, too soon after he'd eaten, if you had any sense! A few of the Elves caught on to that gem of wisdom, when they were gifted with whichever meal he had eaten last, after they had played that game with him for a while. All the agitation of the 'up and down' motion was all it would take, and he would toss up his meal right in your lap—then grin like it was some huge joke—all over you!

Watching the Elves with the baby made me wonder at what Elladan had said that night on my veranda. When he had proclaimed that none of the Elves cared for little ones any longer, was he just being dramatic? Were these Elves just playing with this convenient child, and really would not like one of their own? I did not know these Elves well enough to ask any of them this question, I did not think. I decided to ask Elrohir at the next opportune moment I had.

That moment came that very evening as we settled down for the night. Elrohir had made a habit of settling his bedroll down next to Leofa and me to sleep. I felt so badly for the Elf; and truth be known, I did feel somewhat responsible for his pain. I had no way of knowing how much influence I'd had on Elladan's decision to go West. All I could do was pray that he had made up his own mind and had not been unduly influenced by me.

"Elrohir," I asked him, "once the Elves settle in The Undying Lands, do they sometimes marry and have children?"

He didn't answer for such a long time; at first I wondered if perhaps he were already at rest. I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him, making sure he was listening first of all, and then making sure I was not opening wounds that he had been trying to close. He turned his head to look at me.

"What makes you ask such a question?" he wondered, with a slight smile on his face. "Sometimes the things you think about puzzle me!"

"I meant no offense, Elrohir," I said gently. "It was something your brother said to me before we left. We had a terrible argument. Perhaps he told you about it. Some of the things you were saying the night you were dr—had too much to drink, made me think that he may have confided in you."

"He did," Elrohir admitted. "He was very distraught. Elladan and I always—since I can remember anyway—comforted each other when we were hurt or angry. Somehow we always knew what to say to the other to make the hurts better. The night you are speaking of—yes, he was extremely upset. I stayed with him the entire night, but he finally slept. Did he say something to you about Elves marrying in The Undying Lands?"

"I told him he should find an Elven woman there," I explained. "If he did that, he would have someone appropriate to love and be with for all eternity—as it should be for an Elf. It was then that he told me that he wished to be a parent—he wants children, Elrohir! And he told me that even were he to find an Elven woman after he'd sailed West, she most likely would not parent children with him. I was wondering if that was true, or if Elladan was just trying to be dramatic with me? You know, perhaps trying to make me feel guilty, so that I might change my mind? The reason I ask is because all the Elves in Imladris just love Leofa, and they all want turns holding him and playing with him. Is it simply because he is a novelty, and they truly would not dream of having a child of their own? Help me to understand, Elrohir."

"You have it exactly right, Maeren," Elrohir told me. "The Elves love Leofa, that is a fact. However, Elves take parenting beyond seriously, and give their children much of their very souls. It is considered a profound decision to bring another life into this world. It isn't something that 'just happens' to an Elven couple. They marry and bond themselves to one another, and when they deem the time is right, they mate with the intention of creating a child, and it is created."

"Elrohir," I said, almost in disbelief, "are you jesting with me?"

Elrohir smiled sweetly at me. "No jesting from me this time, Maeren," he replied. "But I have not answered your question, either. I have no doubt that Elladan could find a spouse there, if he would be willing to open his heart again. Whether he could convince that spouse to parent a child with him would be another thing completely. It has been so long since there have been any Elflings born, I think some Elves believe it a tradition to uphold, or there is some law against it by now, even though there is no such thing. But Elladan is nothing if not persuasive, so I think he could have his way, if anyone could."

I smiled, because Elrohir was so right about Elladan. Persistent would be more the term I would use in describing him, though, were it left up to me. Another thought occurred to me just then as well: I had gotten Elrohir to speak about Elladan—and he had a smile on his face when he did it! I hoped that was progress of a good sort. At least now I knew the approach to take with this Elf. Simply ask him something I sincerely wanted to know—Valar knew there were plenty of things concerning Elves of which I was still ignorant.

"Thank you, Elrohir," I said tiredly. "I suppose that helps me to know. Elladan is very persuasive and persistent. You are right. If anyone can make an Elven woman see the light, so to speak, where having Elflings is concerned, it would be your twin."

Elrohir chuckled lightly. "Go to sleep, lady. Dawn comes earlier every morning it seems."

There went my healer's instincts again, gnawing at a corner of my mind. Elrohir used to hardly ever sleep—as had neither Legolas nor Elladan hardly ever slept—on our previous journey.

"Elrohir," I began, "are you sure you are feeling all right?"

"I am feeling just fine," he said sluggishly. "But I would feel _so_ much better if you would hush now, so that I could rest." I could see in the dimness of the camp's fire the corners of the Elf's mouth turn up in a grin. _At least he seems happier tonight._

Leofa chose that moment to stir and cry out just the tiniest bit, as if he were dreaming. I sat up to settle him somewhat. My son soothed right down at the touch of my hand upon his back and the sound of my voice telling him all was well. I adjusted the blanket around his tiny shoulders and whispered a prayer to the Valar, that they keep my precious bundle from harm always. I could not bear it if anything befell my son—it would literally kill me.

I lay back down on my bedroll on my side facing Elrohir, but sat back up quickly, for the sight of the Elf left me cold. Now I _knew_ something was dreadfully wrong with my friend, and I could not wait to get him to Gondor—to Arwen and Aragorn.

I could not help the shiver that ran the length of my spine. Elrohir was lying beside me asleep—_with his eyes closed_.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Elrohir," I declared, as I sat nursing Leofa the following morning. "I want us to break away from the wagon today."

"Why?" Elrohir wanted to know. "Have you had a change of heart? Last I was aware you could not stay far enough away from Gondor. You only go now because you feel an obligation—because Estel is Leofa's father, and he has a right to see him."

"That is true enough," I admitted. "But things change, as do attitudes. I suppose mine has changed some. I wish to go as quickly as we might. I want to make all haste to Minas Tirith. We cannot get there soon enough to suit me now."

"Why this sudden change, Maeren?" he asked me skeptically. "And why do I have a sneaking suspicion it has to do with me?"

"Whatever would give you that idea, Elrohir?" I asked him glibly. "My but aren't we self-centered? Truth be known, the sooner I get to Gondor and get this little visit with Aragorn behind me, the sooner I can get to Rohan—where I truly wish to be!"

He smiled. "I had better not find out otherwise, lady, or there will be retribution to be had."

I smiled in return. "Challenge acknowledged, Elrohir. I do not back down."

"Very well," he said quietly. "We break with the wagon today."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Thus we began the fifth week of our journey. We were very close to the Gap of Rohan, and I was glad of that. If we rode hard, I thought we could probably make Minas Tirith within a week. But I was afraid if we pushed it that hard then Leofa would be the one to suffer, and I could not do that; not even for Elrohir. I settled for going as quickly as was prudent, and praying constantly to the Valar, that they may see us through until we could get this Elf to the King and Queen. I felt sure there would be something that they could do for him to cure whatever this was. Even as these days went by, Elrohir was looking weaker, yet even as he did so, he denied it every time he was asked.

It took us ten days to reach Minas Tirith, and we rode into the city without fanfare. There was no doubt in my mind, however, that lookouts had been placed for our party for several weeks now, and that we had been announced well before our arrival. We were admitted into the gates without incident and into the seventh circle in the same manner. We were ushered into the Citadel and into the arms of the royal family who had been waiting for us with baited breath it seemed.

All my fears about Elrohir were confirmed the minute I saw Arwen's face as her eyes caught sight of him. I watched as she searched about for her other brother, and then she sought Aragorn's gaze.

"Where is Elladan, Brother?" she asked Elrohir as she looked at him once again.

"He went with Father, Arwen," he told her solemnly.

I thought the Queen might faint when she heard that news.

"And how fare you?" she asked him, deep concern furrowing her brow.

"Very well," he said with a small grin. "Can you not tell?"

Standing a few feet away, I held Leofa who was clapping his hands and smiling. Aragorn noticed him, and tearing his eyes away from Elrohir finally, he walked over to me, wanting to hold Leofa. The baby had grown so much since last his father had seen him.

Leofa, however, did not remember this man and shied away, holding his face into my shoulder and showing his father his red gold mane. Aragorn frowned, a look of hurt on his face.

"Worry not, Aragorn," I hastily informed him. "He has no memory of you. Strangers scare him. It takes him no time to warm up, though, and then you best beware. Once he accepts you, he will give you no rest. You will be expected to play, until you can play no more—and for the rest of the day! Let us go and join Arwen. Perhaps a female presence will help soften him up."

We approached the Queen, who looked up as we neared her. Leofa immediately sensed she was Elven—or had been—once upon a time. His face lit up, and he squealed with delight. He leaned outward toward her as if he'd known her his entire life. _So much for stranger shyness._

"Aragorn," I said, trying to convince him I had not been not lying to him, "I swear he never does this. It must be Arwen's resemblance to her father or perhaps to Elladan. They are both two of Leofa's favorites.

Arwen's face lit up, even with her worry over her brother, and she accepted the child that so wanted to be in her arms. She hugged the baby to her breast and rocked him back and forth for a few moments, until he decided he wanted to glance about the room just a bit more. The Queen quickly stole a glance at her husband the King, and her smile was radiant, as was his.

"He is beautiful, Estel," she told him; her voice filled with what I felt was awe. Then, turning to me, she said it again, "Maeren, he's an angel—just breathtaking!"

I said nothing; I only smiled and nodded, my eyes filling with tears.

"Maeren," Arwen began, "may Estel and I take him to our chambers, so Estel can get to know him again? Perhaps Leofa will allow him to hold him?"

_Would my heart never cease cringing when it was proposed that the King take my child—even to the next room? _

How I wanted to refuse, but I plastered a smile on my face and tried my best to look pleased.

"Of course," I answered. "That would be fine. When he gets cranky, he will simply want to be fed."

"I will send someone straight away to take you to your chambers," Arwen said before leaving the room with the King and my son. "Elrohir, would you please come with us?"Elrohir gave me a sly smirk as he left the room trailing his sister and her husband.

I stood there feeling just the smallest bit miffed—and deserted, I might add. But true to Arwen's word, I did not stand there for long. A servant dressed in the black and silver livery of Gondor's Citadel quickly ushered me to what turned out to be a most opulently furnished room. I thanked the man, who barely acknowledged my presence, and shut the door after he'd gone. I began to look around. In particular I was looking for clues that my son was intended to be in this room with me during our stay.

_Call me suspicious, I care not. _

I had been doing nothing but thinking since my departure from Imladris—thinking about what I intended to do with my life from now on. And the conclusion I continued to come to was that, whatever I intended to do, I did not intend to do it in Minas Tirith—nor even in Gondor! Let the King put that in his smelly old pipe and smoke it!

_I was going home._

Home to Rohan—where I belonged and where I wanted Leofa to grow up. My father was no longer there, but with any luck, his house was still standing. And if his house was not, the house I shared with Dustin was there—if it survived the war. And if neither of them was still upright, my brothers would help me build another—I knew that they would. Yes, I was going home. And nothing and no _King_ was going to stop me.

My brothers were in Edoras—all four of them. From Haedren to Small Saelden, I would kiss every last one of them the minute I set eyes on them! They would be as happy to see me as I would be to see them. We would all help each other, just as we did before I made the hugest mistake of my life and came here to be the Warden in the Houses of Healing in this putrid hole of a city!

I took a deep breath, realizing suddenly that I was letting myself become angry over my perceived dismissal by the royal family. When Arwen and I had parted, I believed we had been friends. To where had that friendship evaporated?

I took another deep breath, trying to calm myself, and also attempting to place myself into the Queen's shoes. Here I was, the woman who'd had a tryst with her husband, and who had conceived a child by him; and I now had a child by her husband, and she did not—and that was something she wanted more than anything. She had told me that herself. She could not wait until she and Aragorn had children of their own. Arwen probably felt not only resentful, but perhaps a bit threatened as well. I laughed to myself. Aragorn walked around in his personal life as if he had his head in a hole, with not a care in the world, when the two women in his life—one because she chose to be, and one because she chanced to be—both felt very insecure and threatened all the time. Where was the justice in this picture?

My anger faded away as I thought about Arwen, and all she'd been through because of what Aragorn and I had done. I could not be angry with her for any reason. The least I could do was to allow her time with my son; let her get to know him if that was her wish. If that meant he was to sleep in their room overnight, then so be it—for the time being. Leofa would be with me to live—I would not give in on that and that was final.

A soft knock on my door brought me out of my thoughts, and I moved quickly to answer it. I knew that whoever it was had Leofa. I could hear him fussing on the other side of the door. Arwen was there, holding my red-faced and drooling son who was sniffling and hiccuping as if he'd been crying for hours. He had one finger in his mouth, which was something he did when he was he was tired and hungry and wanting a nap.

The moment he spied me he leaned outward to me, arms outstretched. I invited Arwen to come in and sit down, as I relieved her of her unhappy burden and cuddled him close.

"He was happy for exactly ten minutes, I would say," Arwen announced dryly. "I am afraid Estel and I have much to learn as far as how to parent children is concerned."

"Worry not," I said soothingly. "It comes to you quickly. And it really aids you if you have plenty of experienced help." I hoped I didn't sound too critical of her choice of leaving me out of their little family gathering earlier, but somehow, I could not help myself when I uttered that statement. I settled in a rocking chair and very quickly had Leofa at my breast nursing. "Why did Elrohir not aid you with him? He usually knows how to pacify Leofa."

"Leofa seemed stressed to be around Elrohir," Arwen said worriedly. "And I must say I cannot blame him too much on that score. My brother is unwell."

"I know he is," I exclaimed, "yet he denies it at every turn. I know Elves do not take ill, so I have been terribly perplexed by what exactly is ailing him, Arwen. I insisted we break with the wagon, so that we may make more haste in arriving here. I knew that if anyone would know what to do for him, you or Aragorn would."

"I fear I know what is wrong," Arwen said sadly, "but there is no cure for what ails Elrohir."

I could not believe my ears. The Eldar had some sort of dread disease that affected them and there was no cure? She had to be jesting with me!

"What are you talking about, Arwen?" I demanded to know.

"It is grief, Maeren," Arwen announced. "Plain and simply grief. I spoke to him as to why Elladan went with Father to Valinor, and he explained it to me, though I have a hard time believing that even being rejected in love would send Elladan away from Elrohir's side."

I looked down into Leofa's face, unable to look at Elladan's sister at the moment. I could not wait until I was out of Gondor and out of this Peredhil family's life forever! I had brought nothing but ill fortune to them from the minute I came into their lives, and the sooner I left the better off they would be. I decided to face the truth now. I would not spend another moment worrying about facing Arwen with the facts about Elladan and me.

"Arwen," I began, "Elladan fell in love with me, but I did not return his love. Do not get me wrong, he is a wonderful Elf, I love him as a dear friend and would do anything for him—but I would not betray your father for him. That is the one thing I could not do.

"Elrond and I became very close, Arwen. I truly love him with all of my heart. He was as a father to me, and I will always mourn my loss of him in my life, just as I mourn the loss of my true father. But your father asked me—asked me with profound sincerity—not to get involved with Elladan when it was obvious that we were growing close. I promised Elrond that I would not. And I kept my promise. It hurt Elladan deeply, and I regret that very much. But I was caught between a rock and a hard place, Arwen. I wanted not to hurt either of them, but in the long run, I believe both will be hurt. And now it appears as if Elrohir will not fare well either."

It suddenly occurred to me that the story I had just told of Elladan and I could also have applied to Arwen and Aragorn. Elrohir had told me of their situation before the war. I already knew how much it had hurt Elrond to allow the marriage, when against all odds, Aragorn had fulfilled his end of the bargain. Aragorn could have walked away from Arwen, as I had walked away from Elladan—yet he had not. He had chosen his love for the Queen over his love for his foster father. What a terrible choice he'd had to make. I was glad my love for Elladan had not been even a fraction as profound as Aragorn's was for Arwen. My choice had been difficult, but not heartbreakingly so.

I lifted Leofa from my breast discreetly and placed him upright, rubbing his back to burp him. He did not disappoint me. A loud belch was forthcoming quite quickly. Arwen and I both laughed.

"It is amazing that such a loud noise can come from such a small source," she said with mirth.

"This child is full of surprises," I said into Leofa's face, as I lifted him toward me. His good humor had been restored and he reached for my face, but I was too quick for him. I pulled him back, making a funny face, and he began to laugh. This made the Queen laugh even harder, listening to the hearty little belly laugh of the baby. _It is so precious to behold_. I set Leofa to my other breast, and he settled down once again.

"You are a wonderful mother," Arwen said wistfully. "If I can prove to be even half as good a one, I will be happy."

"You forget I have done this before," I said with a bittersweet note in my voice. I thought about Tristin and some of the mistakes I had made when he was a baby. _There is nothing like experience to teach you anything in life!_

Remembering where our conversation had drifted from, I again brought the subject back to Elrohir.

"Arwen," I said with complete skepticism, "please explain what you mean when you say it is 'plain and simply grief' that has Elrohir looking so sickly."

"I wish it is only that he is _looking_ ill, Maeren," Arwen said with definite fear in her voice. "Elrohir is dying—dying of grief over the loss of his twin."

My face must have looked a mass of disbelief. I sincerely doubted every word she had said. Oh, it wasn't that I doubted that she believed her own words. I simply could not believe that they were true. She had to be under some sort of delusion. Emotionally healthy people such as Elrohir just did not die from grief. That was absurd!

"Arwen," I said, trying to humor her, but at the same time trying not to offend her, "where did you get a ridiculous notion like that?" _If I was trying for tact, it didn't seem I had tried very hard._

Her jaw dropped in disbelief—at my disbelief of her, I suppose.

"It is more than a ridiculous notion, Maeren, I can assure you," Arwen told me smugly. I had apparently offended her despite my lame attempt not to do so. "Elves have died of grief since there have been Elves upon Arda! It has been a fact of Elven life since there have been Elves. Just because you have not heard of it, does not make it a ridiculous notion!"

"I am sorry, Arwen," I was quick to reply. "I am the first to admit my ignorance of Elves, and I beg your pardon for any slight I may have given you. Of course anything that is serious enough to cause death is never ridiculous, I just have a difficult time getting my mortal mind to accept such a foreign idea. It is true, Elrohir did not show any signs of this malady until well after we began the journey. I hurried him here to you for your wisdom in healing him, the least I can do is listen to your advisements with an open mind.

"But you have to understand where my words are coming from, Arwen. They are coming from a desperate place in my heart. You sit there and tell me that Elrohir is dying as if it is a matter of fact, and you accept it as if you have no choice. Are you telling me there is nothing to be done for him? Can we not take him to the Gray Havens and set him upon a ship bound West? Once he reaches Elladan and is reunited with him, will that not cure him?"

"While an Elf dying of grief is something known by all Elves, I have never personally been around one who was going through it. My mother began fading, but she was also afflicted with poison from an Orc's arrow, not to mention their torture she was made to endure. I have no experience dealing with an Elf fading from grief. I know not how long the process takes, or whether it can reverse itself once it has begun. I know nothing about it other than it exists, and that my brother is dying from it and there is nothing I can do about it. It scares me to death, and I wish that my father were here. But he is not. There is no one. We are alone with this. I want not to watch Elrohir die, Maeren, but I fear we have no other choice."

Arwen was weeping now, but I could not go to her with Leofa at my breast. He was asleep, so I quickly disengaged him from me and rearranged my clothes, holding him on my shoulder to let any air escape from his stomach before I put him down for a nap. I rose from the rocking chair, and laid Leofa in the center of the bed that was in the room, drawing the quilt that lay across the foot of it up over his sleeping little body. He did not stir, so tired was he.

I went to Arwen, crouching before her where she sat.

"I am sorry, Arwen," I declared. "I cannot accept what you are saying as inevitable. I must at least try to do something. I cannot—I will not—stand by and watch Elrohir die of something as unbelievable as grief. I will carry him to the docks on my own back if it comes to it—I will not watch him die!"

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	41. Sickness and Sadness

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

"You want me to what?" I asked him unkindly, completely incredulous.

"You must be jesting, Elrohir! I am a healer, not an executioner!" I paced the room like an angry cat, caged but being taunted and wanting to be released to sink my claws into my tormenter to get my revenge.

"Maeren," he said, his smile guileless, "you would not be forcing me to drink the herb; I would do that on my own, by myself. I merely ask for your aid in procuring it for me, in the amount I would need to make sure that I slept and never awoke. What is so terrible about my request?"

I looked at this Elf who was once my friend. He barely resembled Elrohir anymore. Oh yes, it still looked like him, except that he was paler and gaunter. But his eyes were haunted, and his mind was not allowing him to be the person I knew that he was deep inside.

We had been here in Minas Tirith for ten days now, and Elrohir had steadily withdrawn from everyone, even Arwen. He was still able bodied; he could do everything for himself—_if_ he had a mind to. The trouble was, he rarely had a mind to do anything any more. This 'fading' the Elves did—this dying of grief—seemed to be like extremely severe depression, like one would find in Humans. He had ceased eating and sleeping and was becoming very weak. And now Elrohir had it in his mind that the pain of living was too great for his tortured mind to bear.

He wanted to die, and he wanted to die now. And I was to help him do it.

"You ask too much my friend," I told him honestly. "I love you, but I will not help you kill yourself. I will hold you and comfort you, but I will not kill you. Not for anything in this world would I do that, Elrohir."

"If that is the case, Maeren," he said sadly, tears building in his eyes for the hundredth time today, "then you truly do not love me. If you did, you would not allow me to be in such pain. This agony—I cannot describe it to you—is worse than death itself! Why will you not help me rid myself of this torment? Can you not sense the anguish in my soul?"

"If you truly wanted to rid yourself of this torment," I countered, "you would allow me or someone here to take you to the Gray Havens, Elrohir. I should have insisted that you be forced, but Aragorn and Arwen would not hear of it. You know not what is the best thing for yourself any more, and I fear it is growing too late. I wish there was something I could do for you besides weep and pray, but there is nothing. You will not even let me comfort you any more. I am sorry, Elrohir. You were always there for me, and now I am failing you. But I will not fail you by killing you. That I will not do."

I strode from the room—stomping was more what I was doing—but I still liked not admitting to doing such an uncivilized thing. I had in mind to find at least one of the royals. I was going to make them listen to me—and I prayed to the Valar that it was not too late to get Elrohir reunited with Elladan. We simply had to do something—now. This had gone on for far too long. If we waited, he was going to starve himself to death or die of dehydration—if he wasn't successful in killing himself by some other dire means.

I came upon a servant, whose name I did not know, and proceeded to inquire as to the whereabouts of the King and Queen. I half expected the dolt to tell me to mind my own business, but I suspect the daggers I was throwing at him with my eyes may have discouraged that foolish thought he had. He informed me that they were both 'indisposed', and he said it quite nasally; I almost prescribed a wash for his nostrils and sinuses. He seemed much too stuffy to me. However, he had not asked my opinion of his health, so I kept my restoratives to myself this time. He deserved not to feel better anyway, I decided. I walked on in my quest to find the sovereigns, leaving the stuffy one in my wake. I may as well find them on my own—I wasn't likely to get much help from the staff, as closed of mouth as they had been instructed to be.

The Citadel was of such cavernous proportions! It was like being swallowed by a dragon that had several heads, and likewise, just as many long necks. These hallways were endless and sometimes I tended to wander about for what seemed like hours, passing the same doorways, I was sure, more than once. I finally found myself in a place familiar—the kitchen! I sent a silent prayer to the Valar once more, for seeing me through one more trial on this endless of days.

I pushed open the double doors leading into the kitchen and looked all about me. I spied every other person I might wish to see—but neither the Queen nor the King were among the throng of people scurrying about while trying to get the evening meal prepared. At this point, I cared not. At least I had been delivered from the bowels of the scaly demon Citadel! _Thank Eru for that!_

I made a pretense of finding a bit of fruit for myself and was finally successful. I found one apple! You would think a surplus of everything would be had in a place of this size. There probably was a surplus to be had—I most likely did not know the hiding places the staff resorted to using; to make sure they had on hand the supplies they needed when the King or Queen called for something in particular. They would not be caught red-faced without something they needed—no fools these servants, indeed.

I gave up and went to my room. It was only perhaps an hour until evening meal. I would speak to them then. Elrohir never presented himself at mealtimes, so I would not be speaking out of turn. I could also find out if Arwen had learned anything by prowling through the ancient libraries in the lesser-used rooms of the Citadel. That had been her sole task since she had come to the conclusion that her brother was dying of grief. She thought her search would more than likely not bear fruit, but she had to do something. She felt as I did—she could not sit and wait for Elrohir to simply die. It was not in her nature.

That was why it was so hard for me to understand her decision to oppose me when I voted to overrule Elrohir's refusal to travel to the Gray Havens. He was clearly not in his right mind. Oh he seemed lucid; he knew who everyone was and where he was and that sort of thing. But he could not make his own decisions—he was not thinking clearly. But she would not hear of forcing her brother to do anything. She was remembering him as he always was. Not as how he was now—despondent, despairing and completely not caring about anything or anyone—especially not himself!

Leofa was spending his time with Aragorn. When Aragorn was not attending to matters of court, he was being a father—and enjoying every moment of it—when _he_ wasn't worried about Elrohir. Leofa was enjoying the male attention as well. Men have a totally different approach to life about them than do women, and—as much as I hate to admit it—Leofa needed to be around that. Men are as different from women—and I mean not just physically—as day is from night. It would be wrong of me to keep Leofa cosseted at my side, even though it is my instinct to do so. As aggravating as the male animal is—and I know I would eventually include my precious baby in this bothersome group—it is their differences, exasperating or otherwise, that keep us entertained, truth be known.

I hated to torture Arwen with the news that Elrohir was becoming intent on ending his life, and not just waiting for it to fade away as most other Elves suffering this malady did, but she and Aragorn needed to know this latest twist in Elrohir's twisted mind. I did wait until the meal was over, and we were sitting in their personal sitting room, before I broached the subject.

I was nursing Leofa for the last time before they put him down for the night. Yes, Arwen and Aragorn had done just as I suspected they would and had asked that he sleep in their room for the duration of our stay in Minas Tirith. With all the strife going on in our lives, I could not bring myself to deny their request, so I agreed without protest. There was too much tension in Leofa's midst as it was, and I was loath to add more by refusing them this. He was well adjusted to them by the evening of our first day in the city, so there was no trouble with him accepting them by his bedtime. _I_ was the one who could not accept that he was not at my bedside that night. _It was only until our visit was over. Then he would be with me to raise._

Tonight, though, I had something else on my mind—Elrohir, and his preoccupation with things suicidal. I began without preamble.

"Elrohir asked me to furnish him with enough Belladonna that would put him to sleep so he would never wake up," I announced to them both.

They had been looking over an ancient scroll that Arwen had found in the archives she had been searching through for days. It really held not much new information, she had told me earlier, but they were combing it for anything that could be useful to our cause just the same. When I made my announcement, they both looked up as one, expressions of astonishment and disbelief on their faces.

"Are you sure you heard him right, Maeren?" Arwen asked me, looking as if she was not certain she trusted what I was saying.

"I may feel as old as the Misty Mountains right now," I insisted, "but I am not quite in my dotage yet. He asked me for Belladonna, and he made it quite plain that he intended to sleep forever after he ingested it. I am quite sure I heard him exactly right. He is no longer content to let nature take its course—he intends to help it along. He asked me directly to aid him in killing himself."

"And what did you tell him?" Aragorn asked benignly.

"What do you think I told him?" I snapped. "I told him 'no'! He accused me of not caring about him—of not loving him at all if I could stand to see him in such agony. I accused him of not trying to rid _himself _of the torment, since he was not willing to go to the Gray Havens. What I said made no difference to him. But I do think he bears watching. I fear he will try some other method, since I would not help him."

"I think you are making too much of this," Aragorn told me condescendingly. "Elrohir is too noble an Elf to harm himself in this way. He will not carry through any plan of this type."

"Would you stake_ his _life on it Aragorn?" I asked him heatedly. "Has he asked _you _to help him 'sleep forever'? Have you heard his plaintive weeping as he told you that you care not for him if you will stand by and watch him in this agony he has immersed himself in?"

"How would we go about placing him under a watch, Maeren?" Arwen interrupted. She obviously did not care for this argument I had started with her husband, but was too much a lady to lower herself to my level and insist that I cease it. "He is mobile, he can come and go at will; what will stop him from evading whoever we give the task of guarding him?"

"I did not say it would be easy," I admitted, somewhat ashamed. "Have you any ideas? I checked on him before the evening meal, and he was fine. He was still angry with me, but he was alive and—somewhat well. I have thought about sedating him just enough to keep him asleep, but not enough to do him harm. That way we would have more control over him. We could bodily take him to the Gray Havens, and set him upon a ship bound West, and pray that we are not too late in doing so. I have no other ideas to offer. I wish that I did. This is tearing my heart to pieces."

"As it is ours, I can assure you," Aragorn expressed to me, with a look of profound sadness on his face.

The King's expression took me aback. I realized I was being hateful to him and for no good reason. What was it about Aragorn that set my teeth on edge? I always felt as if he talked down to me. Was that something I simply perceived wrongly, or was it something he was guilty of? I made a mental note to try and stand back from now on and truly listen to the King, try and discern exactly what and how he said things to me. When we first met, I liked him very much. Had he changed? Or had I? Or perhaps we both had changed, and we simply were not destined to get along any more.

"I am sorry Aragorn," I said quietly. "I meant not to snap at you. I am just so worried about Elrohir, and it seems as if you fight me at every turn whenever I suggest we do something for him. Why is that exactly?"

Aragorn got up from his seat beside his beautiful wife and walked toward the huge window that looked out on the city below. He stood there for a few moments as if lost in thought. I wondered if he would answer me and about that time, he did.

"I fight you because I cannot reconcile the Elf that sits despairing in that room upstairs, with the one I always knew as my brother," Aragorn said after he had turned back to face me. "The two Elves are so vastly different. And even though the evidence is staring me right in the face, I still cannot bring myself to see it. It hurts too much." Arwen was up and in Aragorn's arms before I even registered that she'd risen. _She knew him so well._

I said nothing more. I had said quite enough already.

We all glanced up when the door to the sitting room opened suddenly. It was Elrohir, of all people. He came in a bit unsteadily on his feet. He hadn't eaten or slept in almost two weeks. How he was continuing to stay on his feet I would never know. I suppose it was because he was an Elf; their strength was legendary, after all.

I rose and gave Leofa to Arwen, and then went to Elrohir, lending him my shoulder, and placing my arm around his waist. I feared he would shake me off, after my refusal to help him with the Belladonna earlier, but he actually smiled at me and kissed my cheek before we began walking. I took him to the sofa I had been sitting on, and helped him to sit, and then sat myself.

Arwen gave Leofa to Aragorn. _I wondered if the child was beginning to feel like the proverbial 'hot potato'?_ She sat on the other side of Elrohir and smiled at her brother—a smile that would have melted anyone's heart.

"Elrohir," she said sweetly, "it is wonderful to see you downstairs tonight. Are you feeling better?"

"I suppose I am, in a way, sister," Elrohir replied. He bent and kissed her cheek and gave her a small hug. Then he turned to me. "I am sorry for putting you in such a bad position earlier, Maeren. That was ill done of me, I admit. I have had some time to think it over, and while the concept of simply sleeping and never waking up still appeals, I promise you I will not act upon it, nor will I do anything of the kind to speed up this hateful process. I will, however, take you up on your offer of the help you were willing to give, if the offer still stands."

"You will allow us to take you to the Gray Havens?" I asked excitedly.

"No," he said sheepishly. "That is not exactly what I meant. I am too tired to travel. I have told you that so many times I cannot count them; do you not hear me when I speak to you?" He chuckled a small bit. I wondered at his change of attitude. He had not even cracked a smile in days. "No, I meant the offer you made when you said you would hold me and comfort me—that goes for all of you." He said this last statement to everyone in the room with him. He continued, again to all of us. "I need help. I feel bad all the time. I suppose I am sick." Arwen and Aragorn both looked bewildered, but happy. I was dumbfounded. The change in this Elf was wonderful—but baffling.

A knock at the door caught us all by surprise, and a servant to the royals swept open the doors and made an announcement:

"Your Highnesses, you have guests who would not be denied entrance. They threatened me with bodily harm should I stand in their way—"

The servant was swept aside, being jostled out of the way by two formidable looking Elf lords followed by another Elf who was practically holding up a fourth.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

_May the Valar be praised! _

I lowered my face into my hands and wept with relief. Elrohir was going to be fine now. Everything would be all right.

_Elrond was here!_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Elrohir stood unsteadily, but the look of pure elation on his face was phenomenal to behold. Haldan—who was supporting much of Elladan's weight, it appeared, followed Elrond and Glorfindel. The first two Elves came striding into the room, and Haldan and Elladan followed, a bit slower. It seemed that Elladan was in somewhat the same condition as his twin. Elrond made straight for Elrohir and embraced him tightly, hugging his son as if he were a small child who had been lost—and in a way he had been.

Finally Elrond pushed back from the younger Elf and held him at arm's length.

"You are going to be all right now, son," he said amidst his tears. "Your Ada is here, and he has brought your brother back to you, where he belongs. Forgive me for taking him from you. I am sorry, Elrohir; I knew not it would do this to you both, or I would have never allowed your separation." The Lord of Imladris was well and truly weeping by now, as were we all. No one could keep their eyes dry amidst the emotions that were running so high in this room.

No one except Leofa, that is. He spied his Grandfather!

The baby squealed with delight and clapped his hands, which he had finally learned how to do, although the sound was not a loud one by any means. Everyone in the room stopped their tears to laugh at the child's antics, and Aragorn humored his son, and took him to be embraced by his beloved Grandfather.

By the time Elrond had his arms full of Leofa, and Leofa had his damp and slimy hands full of fine Elven hair, Elladan and Haldan had made their way to Elrohir's side. The twins stood facing each other for the briefest of moments, then fell into each other's embrace. They stood that way for several minutes, seeming to gather strength from one another; just standing there, each resting their head on the other's shoulder, intensely joyful to be in the other's company once again.

They spoke to each other quietly in Elvish, saying I know not what, but it was obvious that they would not be separated from each other for a good long while. That was how it should be anyway, as far as I was concerned. Finally, it looked as if Elrohir was tired of standing. He led his brother to the sofa to sit. They sat side by side, but did not relinquish their hold on each other's hands. They were as lifelines, gathering strength between them where their fingers entwined. I directed Elrond to sit beside Elladan on the sofa, and he thanked me with his eyes. I wondered if the Elf lord was wroth with me, since ultimately, I was responsible for the twins' separation, I suppose. I decided I would hear of it sooner or later. If Elrond was angry, I would rather hear of it later than sooner.

I excused myself and went to my room, after first giving my son a kiss goodnight. I could no longer hold my emotions inside, and I wanted not to air them in front of everyone. I readied myself for bed, donning a gown and letting my hair down. I crawled under the covers and extinguished the lamp, then lay on my side and let my tears flow.

I allowed myself to relax for the first time since I had reached this city. Eru, it had been ten days! Ten whole days of worry and angst over Elrohir's sickness. I had been so helpless in this, and that was a feeling I hated more than any other.

Helplessness. It terrified me to my very bones.

I know not how long I lay there weeping; I cried myself to sleep. I slept as one dead, no dreaming and no waking, until the pink of the dawn was staining my walls, and I heard a gentle knocking upon my door.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	42. Proposals and Propositions

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The soft knocking persisted, and I grimaced. I was anything but presentable. I'd been weeping when I fell asleep, and my face was certain to show it. However, it seemed that whoever it was would not be deterred, and they knocked for a third time, more loudly, perhaps thinking I still slept and they needed to wake me. I sat up and bid the caller to enter.

To my surprise, it was a smiling Elrond that was at my door, laden with a tray that was filled with my morning favorites. I wanted to weep at his thoughtfulness—as well as at my sheer joy at seeing him again.

"I am sorry to wake you," he said quietly, "but I could not contain myself until I would speak with you. I hope you do not mind too much." He set the tray upon the bed while I adjusted myself sitting up against some pillows. He helped me plump them up, and fussed with the covers, too. I could not stop my tears, and I covered my face with my hands.

He sat down beside me and drew me into his wonderful and welcome embrace.

"Do not cry, Maeren," he told me, "lest you will have me at it again. I have wept more in the past month than I have in my entire lifetime, and I am well tired of it!"

I sat back out of the Elven lord's arms and grabbed the coverlet, using it as a hanky, which made Elrond chuckle.

"I truly made a mess of things, Elrond," I snuffled. "You know not how sorry I am for the turmoil I have caused within your family. I would not blame any of you if you hated the very sight of me and wished never to lay eyes on me again. I weep from the sheer joy that you seem not to hate me. It would rend my heart asunder were that true."

"_You_ made a mess of things, child?" Elrond asked me, with seeming incredulity. "_How I tried _to place the blame elsewhere, Maeren, but I am afraid in this case, it lies squarely on my shoulders." I looked at him, and he smiled at me. "You are blameless in this, young one. You did only as I asked of you. Elladan made his own decision, and I allowed it, not knowing the consequences; but still, had I not interfered, none of this would have come to pass. Worry not over that which you have no responsibility, child. There are always plenty of things to go around for which we are responsible; we need not go looking for things to feel guilty over."

I fell into Elrond's arms once again, relief flooding my soul with such force as to be overwhelming. I sobbed as the tension left me. I had not really known just how much pressure I had put upon myself over this situation in which I had been involved. It felt so good to be in this Elf's embrace, to have his gentle guidance once again. I knew it was only temporary, but I refused to think about that at this time. Elrond was here with me now, and that was all that mattered to me at the present.

He laid me back against my pillows and took up the napkin that had been placed on the tray of food he had brought. He dabbed at the tears on my face, his expression that of an indulgent father.

"You must be as tired of weeping as I am," he stated, "especially if you have shouldered all of this blame yourself."

"I am extremely tired of weeping," I said, as I took the napkin from him and continued the job that he'd started. "But now my tears are those of relief, thank the Valar. And thank you."

"No thanks to me," he corrected. "I am the cause of these problems, let's not forget."

"Elrond," I asked, "the twins—will they recover completely now? I had so many questions last night, but wanted not to intrude on your reunion with Arwen and Aragorn. Would you explain exactly how events transpired from your end of things?"

"Of course I'll explain," he told me. "But I want you to eat." He picked up the tray he had so thoughtfully brought with him and deposited it on my lap. I dutifully began picking at the sweet roll that sat invitingly on a plate.

"After about a week of travel toward the Grey Havens," Elrond explained, "I noticed—we all noticed—that Elladan had become withdrawn. As time went on, he ceased eating and sleeping, but when asked, he would deny any ill feelings. I summed it up as missing you and his brother and Leofa, of course, and let him be, for the most part; but he continued to decline. By the time we had traveled halfway to Mithlond, he was truly despondent—weeping often, very tired, refusing to eat and not sleeping at all. Haldan finally convinced me that we should lay our hands on Elladan; really examine him with our minds and our hearts—make sure just exactly what was wrong with him before we set sail. Sweet Eru, am I glad I listened to him!

"It took not much listening with our healing selves to discern that Elladan was grieving the loss of Elrohir. I am not even sure it registered completely in Elladan's mind, that it was his brother he was so desperately needing. The minute Haldan and I realized the depth of Elladan's grief for his twin, we broke from the others and headed directly back here. We knew not for sure, but we judged if Elladan was grieving this badly for his brother, then Elrohir was most likely in the same condition as well."

"When I retired last night," I began, "Elrohir was already looking much better. It was amazing, Elrond, but just before you arrived, Elrohir's condition began improving. It was as if just having Elladan in closer proximity was enough to begin rebuilding Elrohir's strength."

"Yes," he agreed. "It was uncanny. The same thing occurred with Elladan. He had been practically mute the entire journey back here, until just before we reached the gates. He then began to ask for water and say that he was feeling ill. It was one of the strangest things I have ever witnessed; but quite frankly, I hope to never witness such a thing again!"

"Neither do I!" I agreed. "Neither do I. I had thought, at first, that Arwen was jesting with me when she told me that Elves died of grief. But she wept when she told me of it. It seemed so totally out of character, that an Elf—a being so totally strong and vibrant; so full of life and unusually stubborn—could give up and give in over something like grief. I do not understand such a thing, Elrond. Can you explain this to my feeble Human mind?"

"I know not if I can explain it well, whether your mind be astute _or_ feeble," Elrond answered with a small chuckle, "other than to tell you that immortality has its drawbacks, my dear. By that I mean that Elves—even young ones like Elladan and Elrohir—have lived so long and have had so many experiences, good and bad, that over the centuries and millennia, they all begin to add up, for want of a neater phrasing. Elves learn various ways to cope and deal with grief, but some grief is simply too deep to bear. When an event is amassed on top of untold numbers of grievous events that have occurred over such a lengthy lifetime, something may happen that proves an overpowering burden to some—the last straw, as it were. They reach the end of their rope. We both have just witnessed the result of Elves being overpowered by a burden too heavy for them to bear."

"Yes," I agreed. "It was horrendous, Elrond. Just horrendous. Elrohir was not at all himself. He could not make even the smallest decisions on his own. He wanted not to live any more. But through it all, he did not mention the fact that he grieved for Elladan—never did he mention that. I found that so unbelievable."

"I, too, wondered at that phenomenon," Elrond admitted. "Elladan never mentioned his brother, either. That was why I believed it was you for which he grieved. It took Haldan's incessant nagging for me to finally relent and examine Elladan, before we knew the truth of his illness. I cannot believe I was so obtuse."

"I suppose we will never know—nor do I hope to know, if by knowing we will have to experience the illness again!" I exclaimed. "I am just glad it is over. And you are sure they will be fine now?"

"Yes," Elrond replied. "By the time I retired for the night, the twins were laughing; that is something that truly amazed me."

I breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"I know Arwen and Aragorn are certainly eased to have you here, and to know that both of their brothers are going to be fine. They were both so overwrought by this turn of events. Arwen had spent the past several days going through the musty old archives looking for anything to do with Elves, in hopes of finding something to help Elrohir. I, on the other hand, spent my time antagonizing Aragorn. If that man doesn't despise me, I know not why."

Elrond's face softened at the mention of the other two of his children—one by birth, the other fostered.

"Estel ever speaks highly of you, Maeren," he assured me. "He has the utmost respect and admiration for you. He thinks you an exemplary healer and an unparalleled mother. I know not why you would think he would believe ill of you."

My jaw dropped in astonishment.

"He told you that?" I asked him, my voice rife with skepticism.

"Of course he told me that," he admonished me. "Think you I would put words in his mouth to suit my own purposes? And to what end? Exactly why would I do such a thing?" He smiled at me knowingly, because he knew how torn I had been about Aragorn's role in Leofa's life, even before our son had been born.

"I do not understand that man," I admitted. "And I probably never will."

"You still have much maturing to do, young one," the Elf lord said kindly, even though the words were somewhat hurtful. I was thirty years old, after all. I should be fully mature. He was more or less telling me I acted childish at times. I decided that since I greatly valued his opinion, I had better listen closely to what he was saying to me.

I could see the wisdom of the ages in his eyes, as well as his love for me. I knew whatever he may say next would not be to hurt me, but to help me to grow. I steeled myself to accept the criticism in the manner in which it was intended—to help me, not to beat me down. I prepared myself to listen to what this Elf was going to say.

"You are sharp and full of wit, Maeren," he observed. "However, sometimes you are so unsure of yourself that you automatically believe others are also, and you pounce on them before they have a chance to prove your opinion right _or_ wrong!" I smiled slightly and looked down at my hands as they destroyed the sweet roll I'd had every intention of eating. I was surprised when Elrond's long fingers guided my chin up so that I had to look at him as he spoke to me. "Estel senses this and takes it into account.

"I would see you allow your self-confidence to grow. On the surface you seem to fair burst with it. But the longer one knows you, the more one can tell that it is for the most part an act; an act which must be extremely exhausting to uphold. And the heartbreaking thing is that you need not act. You are a brilliant healer in your own right. And before you begin gainsaying me, remember the boy whose leg I gave a small boost before you left last spring. He was coming along, but the infection was stubborn. Most healers would not have even bothered trying to save that young man's leg, yet you did. I am still not yet convinced it was the wisest decision, given the circumstances."

"Darren was brought in the day _before _the battle on the Pelennor," I told Elrond. I was just a wee bit affronted by his challenge of my choice to save the soldier's leg. "Thank Eru it was not the day of the battle, or I would not have had the luxury of making the choice that I did."

Elrond smiled slowly and arched one eyebrow. "You have convinced me nicely, thank you. You had no doubt at all about that decision, and it shows in your attitude. But when you have doubt, you become defensive, although it does not come out as defensive; it comes out as abrasive."

I had often wondered if that was what my problem had been with the staff in the Houses of Healing. Now Elrond had confirmed what I had wondered about myself. Well, at least I now had something concrete with which to work, and work I would. With my new-made plans to return to Edoras, I would entreat Lord Keodwyn to take me back as no more than an aide, if that was all his need, and I would begin with my character retraining there.

"Is that all, my lord," I asked him facetiously, "or are there more character flaws I need be made aware of?" My smile, I hoped, let him know I was teasing him.

"Except for a bent towards sarcasm," Elrond said with a feigned sneer, "I can think of no others."

We both laughed at that.

"I know you asked me not for my opinion," he admitted, "so excuse me if I speak out of turn."

"I ever seek your opinion," I told him, "whether I ask for it aloud or not. It means much to me that you care enough about me to give it, and I will work at building my confidence in myself. It is true—self-doubt has always assailed me; except where treating wounds and sickness is concerned. Most times I am very confident when in the infirmary and dealing with the patients. It is the staff I have the trouble with. They are who I lack the confidence with, and it always shows itself with abrasiveness, and the staff resents my attitude. I thank you for helping me to sort it all out."

"I would venture to say," Elrond said as he stood, "that you will have a visitor soon, crying to be fed. I will leave now, and let you prepare for the day. Until later, then?"

"Until later," I replied. I watched the Elf lord as he left the room, and I put aside the tray and rose from the bed.

As I prepared myself for the day, I thought about my Elven friend. Calling him a friend was not quite right—he seemed more family to me, yet he was not. Oh well, I was not Elven and he was not Human. I suppose that meant we were friends only.

After I had dressed, I ran a comb through my red gold hair several times, then gave it a number of twists before I pinned it in place in its perpetual knot at the nape of my neck.

_Eru, I was still tired. Or maybe I was tired again. Perhaps I would return for a nap after I fed Leofa. Self-discovery certainly took a lot out of a woman!_

Despite Elrond's warning, it was still fairly early, and Aragorn did not have Leofa downstairs before I arrived after all. I did wish he would hurry though, truth be known; it was later than I was accustomed to, and I was becoming a bit uncomfortable with needing to nurse my baby. I suppose they had all stayed up later than usual, celebrating the Elves' timely and unexpected arrival—and the twins' return to good health—_thanks be!_

Thankfully, I had not long to wait before Leofa's squeal at seeing me announced his entrance into the sitting room where we had all been gathered last night. Aragorn carried him into the room, and I thought to myself that there was probably never a father more proud of a child. I hurried over to my son, whose chubby outstretched arms were extended to me in such an endearing way. I lifted Leofa above my head, and he laughed and giggled—he reminded me of Tristin when he did that.

"Good morning, Aragorn," I said gently. "I trust you slept well."

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact," he replied. "The first good night's sleep I've had in two weeks, I can safely say."

"Indeed," I agreed. I sat myself down on the sofa, and proceeded to feed my son. It was amazing how easy I found it to feed Leofa in front of people—men and women alike. I supposed it was something a woman simply got used to after awhile. And practice at being discreet certainly helped the situation.

"Is Arwen coming down soon?" I inquired.

"She was still sleeping when I brought him down," he said as if he was amazed. "Leofa is hardly quiet when he wakes, so I know not how she was kept from being disturbed."

"Probably sheer exhaustion," I declared, "from worry over Elrohir. She did not show it, but she must have been completely beside herself with worry."

"That is probably it," Aragorn agreed.

_I could not believe that Aragorn and I had had a complete discussion, and I had not been sarcastic or mean even one time! That must have been some type of record for me!_

Aragorn excused himself and left the room, only to be replaced a few minutes later by Haldan, who made his way over to me, his beautiful visage aglow with delight at seeing Leofa and me again. He hugged us both awkwardly, seeing as how I had my son at my breast at the moment, and he kissed my cheek, then perched on the low table that sat before the sofa in front of me.

"Good morning, Maeren," he said sweetly. "How are you faring today?"

"I fare extremely well," I replied, "now that the twins are going to be fine."

"I think we are being discussed, Brother," Elrohir said, entering the room with Elladan. They both looked very much better, though by no means completely back to full health.

"Speak of evil, and it befalls you," Haldan said cleverly, wrinkling his nose.

"How can you speak so ill of the sick and downtrodden?" Elladan asked, a mask of false hurt covering his innocent face.

"Ill and downtrodden my beautiful ass!" Haldan scoffed, a half smile softening his sham of a frown.

Leofa burped—loudly, and everyone laughed.

"My thoughts exactly, son," I added to the melee of Elven conversation.

Aragorn returned and was quickly followed by a servant bearing a tray upon which sat a tea service with cups and all the fixings for our morning drink. Elladan sat beside me and poured me a cup, spooned in a generous glob of honey and stirred it well. He set it before me with a wink and a smile.

"Just how you like it, lady healer," he said quietly. His smile was beautiful, even though his face was still gaunt.

"Thank you, Elladan," I replied just above a whisper. I took a sip, rolling my eyes with the splendor of the wonderful taste, then set Leofa to nursing at my other breast. Elladan sat back beside me and began stroking Leofa's soft hair. My son lifted his hand to investigate who was combing their fingers through his red gold locks, and Elladan laced his long Elven fingers amid the tiny Human ones. Leofa paused in his suckling, looking upward as far as his little eyes could go back, craning his neck and arching his back—and began to smile. Elladan looked at me, and I looked at the Elf, and we both smiled at each other. Leofa then continued his suckling. He wasn't finished with his meal yet.

"Breakfast will be served in here in a few minutes," Aragorn announced to us all. "Nothing fancy, just sweet rolls and sausages, but I doubt any of us will go hungry."

Before long, the room was alive with people. Elrond, Arwen and Glorfindel had each arrived and the sitting room was bubbling with conversation and cheer. I sat there and closed my eyes, awash with warmth and contentment; I had my son in my arms, and I was surrounded with Elves that I loved—and above all—they were all well and whole. _Thank the Valar for that!_

Leofa heard his Grandfather's voice within the crowd, and he must have suckled his fill. He sat right up and began to 'talk' looking around for his favorite Elf. I quickly covered myself. This child of mine had begun making discretion harder and harder to accomplish at times. Leofa finally caught sight of Elrond and squealed with delight, looking back at me with his silver gray eyes kindled with delight. He laughed and clapped his hands and babbled at me as if to tell me all about how his Grandfather had come back to see him, and that now baby Leofa wanted very badly to go and play with his Elf for a very long time! I hugged my son to me and stood, taking him to Elrond who was, of course, more than delighted to fulfill the child's every wish. I wanted to weep at how much Leofa loved this Elf! And I wanted to weep unceasing that my son would _not_ grow up with Elrond in his life. _It was a lack that no one else would ever be able to fill._

And so the morning was passed in this way. The twins grew tired and went back to bed—after having eaten twice what they normally would have eaten for breaking their fast of a morning. I was tired as well and sought my bed too. Elrond had the baby; with Aragorn right there with him. I knew Leofa would be occupied well until noon.

Haldan walked me to my room and put me to bed. He sang me a lullaby—he made me weep. He dried my tears. I fell asleep. I dreamed no dreams.

I only had just restful rest.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Later that afternoon, while Leofa napped, I received a summons to attend the King in his study. Arwen was there with him, but aside from the two of them, we were alone. He sat in the chair behind his desk, and Arwen perched herself upon the arm of it. I was asked to sit in the chair across the desk from them, so I did as I was told. I wondered just what this was about, but I was not alarmed, nor was it causing me to feel threatened or angry.

The King came right to the point.

"I am prepared to offer you the position of Director of Health here in the city. Now before you say anything, listen to what I have to say, please. First of all, this is a legitimate offer. I would never use my position to further my own means. That is dishonorable and beneath me. Second of all, I have a recommendation—signed by the Steward of Gondor at the time, Faramir, son of Denethor, and dated just after my taking the throne. He proposes that you be considered to be the replacement for that waste of space, Lord Jeneson. You are very good at what you do, Maeren, and would be a considerable asset to Minas Tirith. Please do not dismiss this out of hand, just to spite me; or for whatever reason you usually find to butt heads with me."

I was dumbfounded. This certainly came from out of the blue.

"I am speechless," I admitted. "I know that is probably very hard to believe, but it is true." Aragorn chuckled, knowing my propensity for speech and plenty of it. "You know not what it means to me to be offered this position and to hear your praise of my work. Thank you for the compliments. And if I would be truthful, Faramir mentioned giving me the position in passing, the very day I told him I was with child. You know not how heartbreaking it was to be aware of the offer at a time like that.

"Aragorn," I almost scolded, "forgive me, but it does sound very much as if you have pulled this position from the cobwebs to ease your life. I have some doubt that I would be offered the Directorship, were I not the mother of your son, and it was not going to be a matter of great convenience for you to do so."

"Were you not the mother of my son," he replied without missing a beat, "you would already be in the position of the Directorship, and we would not be having this conversation at all."

"Since I have no way of countering that," I retorted, "I suppose I should consider myself bested in that argument. However Aragorn, you know as well as I do, that I cannot stay here. As brave as I am, I am very definitely Human and would not be able to stand up to the gossip and stares that being a mother without benefit of a husband will bring me. I know you want to be near your son. I want you to be, although my behavior at times may not lead you to think that. I know your intention was not to hide him and, wonderful as that is, it is not realistic—you know this as well as I do. As much as the people love their new King, a bastard child is not easily overlooked or forgiven.

"Besides, I have already made up my mind. I will be returning to Rohan—to Edoras. I will be amidst my brothers and their families. If Lord Keodwyn—the Warden in the Houses of Healing there in Edoras—will have me back, I will continue my training with him. Perhaps he can teach me some new techniques he has learned since last I have seen him.

"You and I will work out between us visits when Leofa can come and be with you. And I mean long visits—summer holidays, Yuletides when you will have him the entire season. Yes, it will try me beyond measure, but you are his father, and deserve to have some of these times with him as well as I do. It will work out, Aragorn. If we work at it and work together—which I am determined to do, and _not be_ a pain in your backside at the same time. We can work this out."

"Will not you receive the same treatment in Rohan that you fear here in Minas Tirith, Maeren?" Arwen wanted to know.

"Yes, Arwen, I suppose that I will," I admitted. "But, I will have my family with me and many of my old friends; and when you have your family and friends with you, things are much easier to bear. It isn't that I do not hold you dear, but I would not have your name, or the King's besmirched along with mine, if word got out just whom the father of my child was. As it is, should anyone look overlong at Leofa, it would not take much guessing."

"Maeren," Arwen said haltingly, "there is Elladan, you know. He spoke to Estel and me—I hope this does not anger you, it was not our intention to do so. We were only trying to think of ways to work things out to everyone's benefit. Elladan suggested to us that he is more than willing to claim Leofa as his own, and wed you as well. He told us he is in love with you, and it would be his fondest wish to be with you—if you would have him. You could have the position you would dearly love to have. Elladan would be with the woman he would dearly love to be with. Estel could be near his son every single day—not just on holidays. It seems an answer to prayers almost. Is it something you would even consider?"

_Sweet Eru, temptation would ever rear its ugly head at me, would it not?_

I sat there in utter indecision for several moments, not knowing in the least what I should say. I finally decided not to decide at all right now.

"I would be lying if I said I was not tempted," I said, very much confused. "Could I have a while to consider your proposal?"

Arwen looked at Aragorn, who looked at her and smiled in conspiracy, it seemed to me.

"Take all the time you need," the King said to me. "Believe me, it is not our intention to coerce. We sat up here last night—the twins, Arwen and I—and simply ran through some ideas. This one answered the needs of several people—even the people of the city, were you to take the position offered to you." Aragorn paused and smiled. "We even risked your wrath at finding out you'd been discussed behind your back, to bring the idea to you this morning—it smacking of coercion and favoritism, and Valar knows what else."

I grinned. "It would certainly tie everything up very neatly, would it not?"

"It certainly would," Arwen agreed. "The only question would be, '_is _it what you want, Maeren?'"

I rose from my chair.

"Yes, that is the question, isn't it?" I paused for I had not the answer to this all-important question. "If there is nothing else, I will go and give this much thought. I do appreciate all you have done in support of me; truly I do." I went to the door and opened it. "Until later." I left, closing the door behind me.

I stopped outside it for a few minutes, resting my forehead against the cool wood.

Just when I thought I had everything figured out—it had all come undone.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	43. Decisions and Dear Friends

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

After I nursed Leofa for the last time this night, I decided to walk in the Queen's garden. It was amazing how beautiful Arwen had made her private garden during the time I had been away. Of course I had not seen it but once and that but a brief glance on the night of the banquet when she had been introduced to a select few of us in the city. I marveled at her talent at growing things; needless to say it was much changed. More trees had been planted. She must have had them moved from elsewhere. They were already larger than mere saplings should be. There were vines creeping up the walls and on trellises, some of them night-blooming; their flowers exquisite of fragrance, their petals shining in the moonlight that chanced out now and then from behind passing clouds.

I wandered a little deeper into the shadows of the trees and shrubbery and found a stone bench upon which I seated myself. The moon was three quarters full and small lamps lit the pathways, so it was not difficult to see one's way at all here at night. The breeze was very pleasant, and if I had not been so torn inside with decisions to be made, I would have been quite content to sit here for hours, just drinking in the sweet scent of the flowers and of the grass newly cut just today.

I then remembered my little secret garden, where my sweet son had made his beginnings. It had but one lonely tree and a small patch of grass. I wondered if it had been fortunate enough to have someone find it and care for it in my absence. Perhaps it now flourished as this one did. I decided I would visit that special place on the morrow, if time permitted. I was not certain if I looked forward to seeing it again or not. It held both pleasant memories and ones not so pleasant. I would decide how I felt about it when I saw it again.

I had done nothing but ponder my dilemma ever since I had left the King and Queen this afternoon. I had run through the gamut of the 'what ifs' and the emotions—good and bad—and the reactions of the people involved. My head was fair spinning with it all! As I sat here now, though, I was wondering about the question Arwen had put to me: 'what did _I _want?' _What did I truly want?_

I wanted that Directorship, that was for sure—so bad I could taste it! What a feather in my cap! What a crowning glory! Everything I had worked for all rolled up into one big present with a large red ribbon on top!

I listened to my thoughts as they ran through my mind. I sounded like a child at Yuletide, did I not? A child. _"You still have much maturing to do, young one."_ Elrond had said that just this morning. So, if I would be mature about this offer, what would I do? I would consider the position from all angles, that is what I would do—were I being an adult about it.

If I thought about doing the actual job of a director, what did that exactly entail? It dealt with a copious amount of paperwork, I would imagine. Likewise, it probably held its fair share of personnel headaches as well. Staff. My favorite part of the healing profession, was it not? How many patients would I see? None, that is how many. How much diagnosing would I do? The same amount—none. _Sounds like a dream position, Maeren, does it not?_

_It irks me to no end when something I believe is the most wonderful of things turns out smelling like sewage when I am finished thinking it through! That cut out one tantalizing tidbit from the enticing pie the royals had served to me._

I would dearly love the pomp and glory such a position would give me, but I would _not love _the day-to-day workings of the directorship, were I to accept it, I did not believe. The very reason I loved the healing profession was in the dealing with the sick and injured. Watching them heal was the sole reason for doing it in the first place! Figuring out what was wrong and how to fix it was the meat and bones of the occupation. Sitting behind a desk and dealing with whining individuals who did not like the long hours, or thought the work too tiresome or backbreaking, was not the reason I became a healer. No, as tempting as the offer sounded in the beginning, it was sounding more and more like a reason to run home as fast as I could, truth be known!

With the directorship out of the equation, the other things were back in the places they had been before they had been upset by the offer made by the King. I had been doing quite a bit of thinking about my relationship with Elladan over the past few weeks, and if I would be truly honest with myself, I would have to admit that I was in love with him to a certain extent. I _did _love him very much.

_But not enough to wed him._

It was true; I lusted after him—any real woman would. However, physical craving was but a part of love. Elladan exuded maleness, and the fact that _he_ wanted _me_ just added fuel to my fire. I thought back to the riverbank when we almost made love the first time. The electricity surrounding him pulled me to him as surely as if he had a silken rope tethered to me. Then there was that time in my room when I decided to not turn him away. We would have made love that night—there was no doubt about that. I truly wish it had happened. At least I would have that memory of him. But in the long run, I suppose it was a good thing that we had not made love. The attraction was hard enough to resist without recalling that which I would be missing.

Elladan would be an excellent father and role model for Leofa, and I had considered that heavily when trying to make a final decision. There were no better people than the Elves; there was no questioning that fact. On the other hand, there were no better men than the Rohirrim, either, as far as I was concerned. Every race had its bad apples, and a mother simply had to be on the lookout for those, and keep her child from associating among them, lest he turn rotten as well. No, a father for Leofa was not a good enough reason to be marrying Elladan. Marrying him for that reason would not be fair to anyone, even though Elladan thought it would be a good enough reason for him.

No, I would not be staying in Minas Tirith. There simply was not enough to keep me here any longer. There just was not enough reason.

It seems my mind was made up once again.

I was going home.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I started to rise, but I heard soft footfalls—and practice in discerning differences in footsteps these long months in Imladris, made me know that they were Elven ones. I craned my neck back toward the way I had come and could see the Elf coming toward me, but as of yet, I could not tell which one he was. As he got closer, I could recognize that it was one of the twins, for his walk was one of theirs—he held his head proudly and his satiny black hair swayed gently in the breeze around his square shoulders. He came closer still, and I saw that killer smile—it was Elladan. _Eru he was beautiful!_ _How I desired him!_ I thought again about Elrond and the maturing I still had to do; I suppose that included not giving in to every base desire I had the moment I desired it. _A hard lesson would be that one!_

"Mind you company?" he asked me quietly as he joined me.

"Not at all," I replied in a like manner. "As a matter of fact, it saves me seeking you out. I have a need to speak to you."

"Oh really?" He seemed intrigued, although why he would seem so, I knew not. He surely knew by now that his siblings had spoken with me. "What would you be needing to speak to _me_ for?"

I laughed at him; he was playing this to the hilt.

"Elladan," I chided, "cease acting densely. You know precisely what I would have on my mind. You and the royals sat up till the wee hours discussing me. You know what I would speak to you of."

"May I sit?" he asked with a grin, pointing to the bench beside me. I nodded and he did so. He took up my hand, and he kissed the back of it, then lowered our entwined fingers to his lap. "I missed you and not only while I was away from you; that last week at home in Imladris, when we were apart, I was very lonely for you."

"Elladan," I whispered. I hated what I was going to have to say to him. It was not as if I did not love him at all and hurting him was hurting me very much as well. "I cannot marry you. It would never work for us; you know that deep in your heart, if you would but look."

He closed his eyes and breathed a huge sigh. His shoulders slumped, and he hung his head for a moment. Then he straightened up and sat tall again. I wondered at what he was going to say.

"Tell me one more time why you think in this way," he said, looking at me sideways.

My head fell back, and I looked up at what stars I could see through the leaves of the trees. _Why did we have to rehash this same argument over and over again?_

"Which part do you not remember, oh Elf with the perfect memory?" I asked sarcastically. "You remember every single word I have ever uttered to you. Why must I say the same things over and over again? Are you trying to wear me down, until I get so tired of repeating myself I simply give up and give in?"

"Hmm," he mumbled. "I had not thought of that, but it is a good plan."

I slapped his arm playfully, and he turned to straddle the bench and grabbed both my hands to stop me from further attack. We were both laughing by this time.

"I would like to know when this 'relationship'—for lack of a better word—became so heavy," I complained. "As far as I knew, when it started, all we were intending was a simple tumble. Somewhere along the lines, _someone_ changed the rules!"

"I am afraid," he admitted, "that someone was me. I accidentally fell in love with you. I know, I know, it was a foul—totally against regulations. You have every right to quit the game and go home; which it seems you are going to do. And the worst part is, we never got around to having that tumble." He chuckled, but had a rueful look on his fair features.

_Eru, he had to stop smiling at me this way!_

"That is _indeed_ the worst part," I said wistfully.

Elladan threw back his head and laughed heartily. "You are impossible, Mae!" he said when he finally could speak.

"Well, I am not the only one!" I retorted.

"Indeed, I suppose you are not," he replied, sobering quickly. "I will not lie to you and tell you this does not sadden me. I had such hope that you would change your mind. Father and I had a long discussion about this very subject, Maeren. He has given me his blessing as far as you are concerned. Does this change your thinking at all?"

I thought about what Elladan was saying to me. Elrond was giving his approval should Elladan and I wish to be together. He was accepting the fact that another of his children may embrace a mortal existence. Did that change my mind? Did that alter the fact that I would still be responsible for an immortal to be shortening his life?

"No, Elladan, it does not," I told him. "These past two weeks, watching your brother sicken and not being able to do anything about it, have only strengthened my resolve in refusing you. Elrohir asked me to help him end his life. Did he tell you that, Elladan?"

"No," he answered me, looking totally surprised.

"Watching him go through this 'dying of grief' was the most wretched thing I hope to _never_ witness again, Elladan. It got me thinking; if we should wed, I know you will outlast me. I would not have you going through such a thing as this again—over me. You almost lost your life for grief of losing your brother _this_ time. I can imagine what you went through, but I _know_ what Elrohir went through. I witnessed it for myself. I will not be responsible for having you go through that again, because of me.

"And not only that, you would be choosing a mortal life—ending your immortality. You have the chance to live eternally with your most wonderful father and mother in Valinor, and eventually, you may choose to do just that. _You and Elrohir _may choose to do that.

"No, Elladan. I cannot have it on my conscience that I was responsible for dousing the light of one of the Firstborn. It is unconscionable to me. Elves are meant for life! For living and breathing and doing—everything! For eternity! It is sinful to me to even think of ending something as beautiful as the light of an Elf! Especially your light. I do love you, you know."

His devilish smile turned sweet, as he leaned forward and enfolded me into his arms. He held me close for a few minutes, and I relished it—not for lust this time; just because it felt so nice to be held by him again. He finally held me away, his hands trailing down my arms to my hands, which he held in his large ones.

"I suppose if you must reject me, those are very sweet reasons," he said with only a touch of sadness in his voice. Gone was the anger and complete sorrow he had shown the night we had quarreled in Imladris on my terrace. I was happy with his change in attitude, but I wondered at it just the same.

"I must say you are taking this very well," I said skeptically. "And I _am_ very glad about that," I added hastily.

"It surprises me, too," he said, smiling, although his brow was knitted a bit with some confusion. "I think it may have to do with my recent near brush with death, and my renewed bond with Elrohir. I suppose with the passing of the millennia, we had grown complacent—took each other for granted, as it were. We knew not how much our psyches relied upon each other for support to get through life. In a way, it is appalling to know that I depend on someone else to live. To not die, I must be near my brother. It is humbling, to be honest. But I think that, while he does not replace you in my heart, having him take up such a large portion of my mind and soul right now is helping me deal more than I know, with the grief of not winning you."

"For that I am thankful," I told him honestly. "I wish for you not to suffer at all—about anything." I looked in his eyes again, wanting to drown myself in their depths.

"You know not how I will miss you once I am back in Rohan for good. And Leofa—that child will not know what to do without any Elves in his life. I will mourn that fact for the rest of his life."

"Who says he will have no Elves in his life?" Elladan asked almost crossly. "Are you banishing me from him? Just because you and I have no future as 'Elf and wife', does that mean we cannot even be friends? Our paths are bound to cross now and then. Estel is Leofa's father—you are planning to let the boy visit with the man occasionally, are you not?"

My face grew hot, so I knew I must be blushing with my mistake.

"I have convinced myself you and Elrohir will go to Valinor," I said in way of explanation. "I realize that is only my wishful thinking, but since it is what I think, that takes almost all the Elves out of Middle Earth in my mind, does it not? That is all that I meant."

"I am sorry," he pouted. "I have very strong feelings for the little man, and I cannot think that you would take him away from me too."

"Worry not," I eased his wounded pride. "When he is here in Gondor, you may see Leofa to your heart's content. And if you visit Rohan, you may see him as well. You have my word as a lady of the Mark!"

"Well," he said, acting a bit less affronted. "I suppose I should feel completely placated in that case." Then he raised one finely arched brow, and I could tell he was no longer thinking of Leofa at all. "What may sweeten the deal even further would be if you would include in there somewhere that tumble we never got around to—"

I gave him a nudge with my elbow, and he chuckled shamelessly.

"You cannot blame an Elf for trying, my lady." He looked at me evilly.

I matched his look, though I watched him from the corners of my eyes and decided that even a mature woman—perhaps especially a mature woman—deserved a bit of pleasure now and then.

"I will tell you what I will agree to, Master Elf," I suggested. "After I have had time to re-establish myself—after I get my feet back on the ground—when we should meet again, I agree to your proposal—of a _tumble only_. _If _neither of us has formed any other relationships which would make a tumble inappropriate; and if, and _only if_, the rules remain in place—_no falling in love_. We may stay hopelessly 'in like' with each other, but bonding is out of the question. What say you to these regulations?"

"I say they sound most fair," he agreed. "Should we seal the bargain?" Before he gave me a chance to say 'yeah or nay' he pulled me into his arms and kissed me soundly, leaving me breathless as always. _I certainly hoped I could adhere to my own rules as I had set them! Right now, waiting didn't seem like such a good idea to me._

"Oops!" Elladan said, looking cheeky. "I nearly forgot! I was sent out here to retrieve you. We have guests, and they wish to see you for some reason."

"Who are these guests?" I asked, wondering who they could be. There were several people on my list that I could guess at—and I didn't feel like guessing at the moment.

"One is tall and one is small," he said, his smile widening.

"Gimli?" I exclaimed. "And Legolas?"

"Two and the same!" he replied.

I jumped from my perch on the bench and pulled Elladan by the hand until he was standing. I then proceeded to pull him all the way back inside the Citadel, until we had made our way into the sitting room, where the King and Queen spent most of their leisure time.

And there they were. My two traveling companions.

I launched myself at Gimli, and I am sorry to say, I nearly bowled him over. But sturdy he is, thanks be, and he stood his ground and withstood my assault of hugs and kisses. He was fresh off the road, but I cared not. He was precious to behold—all the layers of dirt included.

"Gimli!" I exclaimed. "How do you fare? I see Fangorn did not do you in!"

"Twas plain luck, lass," he replied. "Those trees were eyeing us the entire time, I will have you know."

"Better to be eaten by trees," Legolas reasoned, "than to be crushed by a cave-in! By the Valar, I breathed much more easily when we exited Aglarond, let me tell you, that is certain." There was laughter all around by the Elf's revelation.

I took Gimli's arm and led him toward the sofa.

"Come and sit down," I instructed. "You must be very tired."

"Tired indeed," he agreed, "of sitting! I still maintain legs were meant to be used for walking. No need for the use of those four-legged nags!"

"If not for those 'four-legged nags', as you call them," Legolas interrupted, "we would still be ten days from here, Gimli. Hush with the harping and take a load from your feet."

Gimli looked sideways at Legolas and growled, but said nothing. _Things never really changed, I was happy to say._

"I am surprised half the cellars of the Citadel have not been drained by now," Elladan put in, pointedly looking for a wineglass in Legolas' hand. "Where's your glass, Legolas? Surely you've had a few drinks by now, my prince."

Legolas glanced at Elrond, as if to gauge whether he was listening or not, then glossed over his answer quickly.

"I had not much thought about it, Elladan," he replied nonchalantly. "Elrohir, how was the trip back to Minas Tirith? Did you meet with any obstacles?"

"Oh no you don't, Thranduilon," Elladan teased. "Answer my question, O Happy Wanderer."

"To what are you referring, Elladan?" Elrond asked at last. Of course he'd been listening. Legolas should have known better than to think otherwise.

"Remember the twenty cases of wine Erestor could not find?" I asked the Lord of Imladris. Elrond looked at me with a growing frown. "Of course Legolas did not drink the whole twenty cases! But he did have a hand in denting the inventory while you were away. For being such an innocent looking Elf, he certainly can drink!" I cast an guiltless look at the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, and had he not once told me he was my friend, I may have feared for my life.

"Oops!" I said quickly. "Was I not supposed to spill that information?" I knew good and well that Legolas would have preferred it be kept quiet, but I was in a mischievous mood and felt like living on the dangerous side of life. _I knew not how thin that line was upon which I tread._

"I had wondered to where all that wine had escaped," mused Elrond thoughtfully. "Of course, as Maeren said, all twenty cases cannot be blamed on Legolas' overfondness for drink, I'm sure. Just how sizeable a dent did you put in my wine inventory Legolas? _And_, may I point out, of the finest vintage I owned?"

"Oh Father," Elrohir interjected, "in his condition, I am sure he was unable to coherently count. I would probably estimate his total consumption at six to eight bottles over his three day stay."

"Six to eight bottles?" Legolas exploded. "Surely you exaggerate. I would have been passed out after the second! Cease your jesting and estimate a bit closer to the real number."

"Ah, but he is estimating very close to the real number, my friend," Elladan added. "Think you we were not curious as to how much wine a prince such as yourself could consume in so short a time? Certainly we added it up—and checked it three times! We were being conservative to save you embarrassment. We did not want to attribute a case to you, but if you insist on accuracy, then twelve bottles it was!"

The entire room erupted into laughter, and, truth be told, I knew not that Elves could turn the color that Legolas turned. His eyes strayed to me, and I knew I was in for it. After all, the subject had not come up until I introduced it. I began to glance around the room for a likely port for the coming storm.

However, I had forgotten that I was in the presence of royalty, and regal Legolas was, through and through—at least in the presence of revered Elf lords such as Elrond and Glorfindel, as long as he was sober, that is. He would be much more subtle than to throttle me in front them. Yet I could see the wheels turning behind those blue eyes of his. Whatever punishment he was concocting for me was going to be of the most embarrassing type—I was plenty sure of that.

I would have to keep my senses sharp to stay one step ahead of him, or I would be the one turning twenty shades of red next.

"So where is the child?" Gimli wanted to know. "I have waited long to see the wee one; when will I be granted my fondest wish?"

"He's already abed for the night, Gimli," Aragorn explained. "Perhaps you could meet him first thing in the morning? And I do mean first thing! He's quite the early riser."

"I understand his name is Leofa, after the Eleventh King of Rohan," Gimli interjected. "A fine, manly name. A fine, strong name, as I am sure, a fine, strong man he will be."

"Thank you, Gimli," I said proudly.

"I, for one, am dead on my feet!" Legolas declared. "Good night to you all. I am going to rest myself."

"Don't believe it for a second," I said, "He seeks the wine cellar. You can all be assured."

The look he gave me promised retribution, but he said nothing more. He just smiled in a very dangerous way.

We laughed and talked, with Gimli telling us of his adventures with Legolas in the most humorous of stories—and at the Elf's expense—until the wee hours of the morning, when we all decided we should retire. It was especially true of those of us who would be dealing with a boisterous six-month-old come the crack of dawn.

As I readied myself for bed, I went back over events in my mind. What a wonderful day it had been. I had been surrounded by Elves, Elladan and I had found a peaceful truce in which neither of us had been hurt badly, and my friends had come in from their travels. The twins were both improving in their health by the hour, it seemed, I had decided about the Directorship, and I was going home very soon.

Things were indeed looking up. Perhaps I would finally get on with my life. After a year on hold I was at last going forward.

That was hardly accurate, would I be truthful with myself. I had not truly gone forward since Dustin and Tristin had perished in the stable fire three—no, four years ago now. I thought I would never love again, and I had been proved wrong. Of course, it still had not been that deep, abiding love I'd had with Dustin, but perhaps this love I had for Elladan was a sign that I could someday feel deeply for someone again. There was hope for me. Haldan thought so, and he certainly believed he knew all there was to know about healing—even setting to rights broken human hearts.

I climbed into my bed, and said a short prayer to the Valar, thanking them for all my good fortune. It was funny. A little over a year ago, I thought it not to be good fortune at all. I was afraid—terrified was more the word—alone, and not knowing where to turn. Now I had my little Leofa, slews of wonderful friends that were almost as close as family and many experiences I never would have had, had I not taken the paths I chose.

One never knew what life would bring you from one day to the next.


	44. Full Circle

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

"Mind the beard, young man!" Gimli said with a chuckle. We were back in the sitting room the following morning, Leofa having risen with the roosters as Aragorn had predicted. He had been fed, and had been introduced to his 'Uncle Gimli', and after an initial bout of fearful shrinking away, had finally warmed up to the Dwarf. I almost thought Gimli might have preferred that the child had retained his reticence, as persistently as Leofa was pursuing his intended prize. 

Leofa was mesmerized by the bushy growth surrounding his newfound friend's entire face. He wished to taste it—great handfuls of it—but Gimli was of a mind that a beard was not at its best when covered with slimy baby spit, so he was being kept quite busy trying to keep his glorious facial growth from Leofa's relentless grasp. Aragorn and I were both trying unsuccessfully to keep straight faces. It looked as if Gimli was fighting a losing battle with the baby's hands and would need to sprout at least one more pair himself before the skirmish even stood a ghost of a chance of ending in a draw. 

"A bit of help here would not be turned away," Gimli pleaded, most undwarf-like. Having pity on my dear friend, I lifted my child away from his 'uncle'. I gave him instead a large piece of a sticky bun, which had come from a tray that Aragorn had provided for the Dwarf's morning meal, and Leofa was enchanted with the sweet treat. 

"He is a delightful child," Gimli said warmly. "As long as he stays well away from my beard—especially after he eats that sweet of his." We all laughed at the Dwarf's good humor in the situation, for he took his beard quite seriously. In a more solemn tone, Gimli continued, "He looks much like you, Aragorn. You will never be able to deny him." 

I wondered why Gimli would say such a thing. I thought perhaps it was because he loved me so well; he wanted to be sure that Aragorn always knew he must do right by Leofa and me. Gimli wanted the King to be aware that I had a friend in the Dwarf, who had every intention of seeing to it that the man—King or no—honored his obligations to me and his son. 

"Yes, Gimli," Aragorn agreed. "He resembles me much. I will acknowledge him to any who ask, though in deference to Maeren, I will keep his mother's name to myself, until she names herself freely." 

"As it should be," Gimli replied, apparently satisfied with Aragorn's answer. "He is indeed a beautiful child, Maeren. Well worth all the sickness you endured?" 

"Well worth it, Gimli," I admitted. "Although at the time, I did wonder. I think retching at the banquet was the low point of my life, truth be known." But after considering this for a moment, I had to emend my statement. "No, the little visit with Elrond here at the citadel was very definitely the low point." 

"And who would have imagined the love that would grow between the two of you?" Aragorn pointed out. 

"Who indeed?" I echoed. "We will soon be parting forever, once again. I feel as if I will have lost two fathers just recently, after I part with Elrond finally. My deepest regret will be that Leofa will not really know him—except from stories we will tell him. He will not know it, but his life will be lacking from not having Elrond to steer him through it." 

"Is someone speaking of me behind my back?" Elrond asked with mock suspicion as he entered the room. Leofa squealed and began to fidget in his excitement at seeing his favorite person in the entire world come within his range of vision once again. However, this Elf was certainly no fool, and kept well without the child's grasp—since said child had been chewing on and rending apart a sticky bun, and had it on not only himself, but also anything within a three-foot radius. Aragorn grabbed his son beneath the arms and whisked him from me, holding him out at arm's length. He took him from the room, talking to him the entire time about the perils of eating in such a sloppy manner, while Gimli, Elrond and I laughed at the charming picture the King and his child made as they left the room together. 

"Are you certain the Elves in Valinor do not allow human babies to reside there?" I asked Elrond plaintively. "I could almost deal with not having him with me as long as I knew he would be with you, as much as he adores you." 

"Of course you could deal with being parted from him," the Elven lord said sarcastically, as he seated himself next to me on the sofa. "I would believe that just as soon as I saw it." 

"No need to be nasty," I replied with a laugh. "He is going to miss you immensely. _I am going to miss you as well. We were just sitting here remembering the meeting between the two of us, when you were so _mean_ to me, and how it seems impossible to believe that we grew to love each other so much, given our rocky start." _

"I prefer not to remember that meeting, if you do not mind," Elrond said sheepishly. "I did not do myself proud at all. It was not one of my better moments." 

"If it is any consolation," I told him, as I reached for his hand, "you have made up for it a thousand times over. You have helped me in so many ways, I cannot count them all—and recently too. The talk we had yesterday has already borne fruit, and I thank you for your counsel."

Gimli cleared his throat, as if to remind me of his presence. I turned to him and offered him more of the sweet rolls for breaking his fast. 

"I seem to have lost my appetite," he said with a mild grimace, "after having witnessed the massacre of an innocent roll at the hands of a terrifying baby just moments ago, I find myself a bit squeamish." 

We all laughed at that, and our attention was drawn towards the door as it opened to admit another person of the Elven persuasion. This time it was the Elf of whom I had reason to fear—Legolas. However, I was well protected this morning, with Elrond sitting directly beside me, so the Prince had no chance of accosting me now, to my great relief. I smiled widely at him with this knowledge. He smiled back, wrinkling his nose mischievously. 

"If you think I have forgotten your slight of me, you are sadly mistaken," he said, aimed at me. "I will get you, lady, one way or another." 

"Forget not that I saved your life in the wilderness," I remembered for him. 

"You did no such thing," he remembered for me. "Made me more comfortable, perhaps. Saved me long convalescence, maybe. Saved my life, no—I do not think so. Remember, you dealt with an Elf, not a man." 

"Would someone please enlighten me as to what subject we are speaking about?" Elrond almost pleaded. 

"The Elf was bitten behind the knee by an adder after we were well into the trip to Imladris," the Dwarf explained. "Maeren tended to him—expertly, I might add—and still he was very sick with it for a day." 

"Truly, Legolas?" Elrond said with a frown. "You were taken ill with an adder bite? It must have been severe to have rendered you sick." Turning to me, he asked, "How did you treat it?" 

"The usual way; cuts along the fang marks, drawing out the poison with the mouth, binding it with poultices. Still the swelling grew so bad I had to drain it that night. But you Elves are remarkable. The swelling continued to go down, and by the next morning, he could wear his boot, and was up and not only walking around, but was making up for his idleness of the day before. I have never seen so much energy in one person, I do not believe." 

"That is a side effect of adder venom in Elves, also," Elrond said, filling in a missing piece of information that had baffled me for some time. "If it makes them that sick, it repays them by giving them bountiful energy for a few days afterward." 

"I was wondering what was wrong with me," Legolas admitted. I felt almost jittery with unspent energy." 

"I would but think of a task to be done, and it was done before I could lift a finger," I declared. "However, that turned out to be a good thing, for while Legolas was bursting with energy, I was completely drained of it." 

"And I believe it is _you who owe me __your life," Legolas said wickedly, "not the other way around—if you will recall the wolf incident." _

I shuddered. "I would prefer to _not_ recall the wolf incident, if you would not mind." 

"As _I would not like to recall it," Gimli agreed. "A harrowing event that was, to be sure." _

"Again," Elrond prodded, "I seem to be in the dark. Someone, please fill me in?" 

"Maeren was taking a—shall we say 'nature call'—when a mother wolf that was near the camp began stalking her," Legolas began the story. "She was aware of the wolf right away. I have to give her credit for being alert to her surroundings, for she was very still. She did just the right thing in the situation. However, it was fortunate that Estel had us watch the lady at all times, for in this instance, had one of us not been there, the good healer would not be here, I would venture to say. The wolf attacked, and I killed it. I hesitated for several minutes, for the wolf had a litter somewhere near; she was hanging low to the ground. I kept hoping she would pass the tempting morsel of human woman by, but she must have been too alluring. The wolf was very lean, and obviously hungry. Desperation must have driven her on. I felt contrite for waiting so long, for Maeren was terrified, but I truly wanted to give the wolf a chance to back off." 

"It did scare me to death," I admitted, "and I could not for the life of me determine why someone was not killing the dratted animal, because I knew one of these two was around watching me. I began thanking the Valar for all the good fortune I had had in my life, and about that time the wolf sprang and I screamed—at the top of my lungs." I laughed. I could laugh now. At the time, it was anything but funny. 

"She was not the only one who was scared," Gimli admitted. "When they were gone so long, I surmised there must be trouble, so went to investigate. I found Legolas, and when I saw what he was seeing, my heart almost stopped. And when the wolf sprang—well, had I not known how good a shot he was, my heart would have stopped, without a doubt." 

"The journey was much more adventurous than I had known," Elrond said, frowning at me. "Why did you not tell me all of this?" 

"I do not know," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I suppose the subject never came up." 

Legolas, Gimli and I looked at each other and all laughed at the same time. Elrond simply shook his head and smiled at our foolishness. 

We could hear Aragorn and Leofa returning before we could actually see them. Aragorn was chanting a little nursery rhyme, the one about 'patting a cake' and he was nearing the end, where he was going to mark the cake with an 'L' for 'Leofa' and him. All within the room broke out into grins—not grins of teasing, but smiles of pure bliss for Aragorn, who finally had a flesh and blood member of family, once again right in the house with him. 

We knew father and son had stopped just outside the door to the sitting room, and we waited for the end of the rhyme and were rewarded with the squeal of delight from Leofa when Aragorn tickled him at the end of the rhyme. We laughed and tried to be natural when the couple entered the room. I do not think the King noticed anything amiss when he came in, but knowing Aragorn, he probably knew we'd been listening, he just didn't care. 

Of course the moment Leofa spied Elrond, he was excited to play with his Grandfather. You could see the Elf lord's grimace at not wanting to interrupt the father and son moment, but the son was determined to play with his favorite Elf. 

"No, sweetheart," Elrond said, holding his hands palms outward, "stay with your Ada. He wants to play with you now." 

"I will have plenty of opportunities to play with my son, Father," Aragorn said kindly. "Go ahead. Take him. You will be leaving soon." 

You could see Elrond's eyes glow with love as he took the baby into his large Elven hands. The smile on his face was priceless. I feared he would weep, he looked so happy and sad and completely emotional all at once. Leofa's outstretched hands touched the Elf lord's face sweetly, and Elrond responded by lifting the baby up into the air once more above his head, to the child's squealing delight. They both appeared to be the happiest they could ever be. 

Legolas scowled with his best 'angry eagle' look. "What smells so putrid?" he wanted to know. 

"Leofa," Elrond accused. "You didn't! Did you? And after your Ada just changed your clothes!" 

Aragorn rolled his eyes and rose from his chair to take his son back and change the dirty nappy, but Elrond rose at the same time. 

"No, Estel," Elrond declared. "I will take the bad with the good. If I have the privilege to play with the child, I will clean up his mess. We shall return when he is again fit for proper company." 

Smiling somewhat sourly, Elrond left the room with the reeking child. 

"Gimli," Aragorn said. "Have you had a chance to think about plans for the new gates of the city? I don't expect you to have anything decided, of course; I only wondered if you had any general ideas." 

"Of course, Aragorn," Gimli told him. "I have given it much thought. What do you think I do while on watch of a night by a campfire? I make plans is what I do! No idle mind does a Dwarf possess!" 

"Then come now," Aragorn directed him. "Let us go to my study. I will supply you with parchment and quill, and you can sketch me some of those plans. Will you do this, or are the plans not to that point in your Dwarven mind?" The King was smiling widely. 

"Let's go then!" Gimli replied as he rose. "I can sketch you several plans from several different angles, if you so desire. I have no problem with that!" 

I started to rise to go with them, for I would be left alone with my nemesis did I not. A hand on my arm stayed me, for Legolas had seated himself on the sofa where Elrond had vacated the space beside me. _My time was finally at hand, it seems_.

"Ai!" I said, "You have me at last. Drat it all anyway!" 

"Ai?" he replied, somewhat surprised by my choice of words. "Do you even know what it is you are saying?" 

"I believe it is an Elvish word," I told him, "and I believe it means somewhat 'Sweet Eru!' Am I close?" 

"I suppose I can let it slide," he said, shaking his golden head, "but it does not really mean 'Sweet Eru, although I know what you are getting at." He started to laugh. 

"Legolas," I said with a resigned ring to my voice. "What are you going to do to me?" 

"Oh, tis not what I am going to do 'to' you so much as 'with' you that you need worry about." 

The look I gave him must have been hilarious, for he laughed as if tickled beyond endurance. 

"Legolas!" I whined in anguish, trying to reach his more benevolent side. 

"Just a kiss," he said while laughing. "Just one small kiss. Is that too terrible a burden for you to bear?" 

"Oh," I said with a sigh. "Is _that _all? You had me frightened there for a minute." I closed my eyes and leaned toward him, ready to take my punishment. 

He dropped his hand from my arm, and I could feel the sofa shake as he leaned back, and he laughed so loud I figured he'd have people coming into the room to hear the jests we'd been telling that were so frightfully funny. I opened my eyes and glared at the Elf. _What was this oaf's problem now?_

I decided to ask him. "What is your problem, Legolas?" 

I tried very hard not to laugh, but the Elf's face was so red, and he was laying back on the sofa with his arms hugging his ribs, and he was such a picture of hilarity himself that I couldn't help a chuckle or two. He finally took a couple of hiccupping breaths, wiped his eyes and chuckled a few last times. 

"Oh no, my lady," he said, emitting a few residual laughs, "not here and not now, unless you wish to practice, in which case I will oblige you willingly. No no. Glorfindel _must_ be present."

"Oh," I said facetiously, "then you must catch me again, when Glorindel is present. Very well, that seems fair." I jumped from the sofa before he could move. Living with Elves this past year had not been without learning a thing or two about how to outwit them—_at least_ once in awhile. 

I admit it—I ran. My mature self deserted me, and the child in me ran out the door and down the bleak hallway to wherever this dragon's neck may take me. I hoped it was to the outside, for I wished to go to the small garden where the wishing tree was, and I hoped that Legolas was tired of this game and did not follow me. After several twists and turns, making sure there were no stealthy Elven footsteps dogging my path, I slowed to a swift walk. Luck was with me, and I caught a glimpse of the outside through some windows, and I finally found a door. It wasn't long before I was outside, thanks be, and on my way to my secret garden to see the wishing tree once more, before I left for home. 

It was still quite early of the morning, so there were few people about in the city. The walk did not take long, and I was soon entering the refuge, making my way through the maze of the wall surrounding the little garden I had called my own once upon a time, which seemed like years ago now. As the wall opened out into the yard, I stopped, briefly overcome by memories, mostly sad ones. My little family—wounded children, dressed up like soldiers—a sorrowful man, expected to be strong for tomorrow's battles. I stood up straight and continued walking until I got to the wishing tree; then I sat down in the grass. 

The little garden did not look much changed; perhaps the lawn was more verdant, and the tree certainly looked healthier, with more and greener leaves. Whether it had acquired a new caretaker, I could not be certain. I ran my fingers through the coolness of the blades of grass, simply remembering times gone past. It suddenly occurred to me that I always came here alone and left here alone. Aside from my child, I was alone in this world. Certainly I had my brothers, but it wasn't the same as having my husband—a mate, someone to share things with. Here I was, in a city surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of people, but I didn't have anyone. 

"Surrounded by many, yet ever alone," I meant to say to no one. 

"You are never alone any more," Aragorn said. "You have me and Arwen, Legolas and Gimli and Faramir. The twins, until they return to Imladris. You need never be alone again." 

I jumped and held my hand to my heart to slow its fearsome beating. The King had scared me literally unto death! I had not known he was given to Elven stealth, but to be fair, perhaps I simply had been lost in my own thoughts. 

He chuckled, but said apologetically, "I am sorry, I meant not to scare you. I thought you heard me approach; truly I did." He walked toward the tree and sat down across from me. "I hope I am not intruding. I still come to this place when I have need of solitude or a problem that needs deep thought. Mind if I sit with you?" 

"No indeed," I replied, "be my guest. I was only remembering other times I had spent here in the garden. To be truthful, most of my remembrances were not so pleasant."

"No, I don't imagine they would have been." He placed his hand in the grass, and began pulling at the blades, tearing some out as he did that night, lifting them up and watching them waft back down to the ground. 

"It must be you that keeps the lawn short," I told him with a sly look as he continued his abuse of the grass. He stopped in mid pull and laughed, then ruffled the grass in front of him with both hands, pounded it once and placed his hands on his knees. 

"A nervous habit I suppose," he admitted. 

"And what would the King of Gondor have to be nervous about?" I asked cheekily. 

"Would _you not like to know," he said evasively, as he narrowed his eyes and put a mask of intrigue on his face. _

I thought about this for a moment. The King of Gondor would be nervous about nothing in regards to running the country, I did not believe. Confidence oozed from the man when anything concerning the state was discussed. No, it had nothing to do with his position, I did not think. Then it must be about family. He'd gained Leofa's trust weeks ago, so it was not our son concerning him, unless he was wondering about when I may take Leofa from him. Yet I did not think that was it. Arwen? They were as loving toward one another as they ever had been. There seemed to be no trouble in their marriage that could be detected from the outside at least. I decided to subtly inquire about the Queen. 

"How is Arwen these days, Aragorn?" I asked him vaguely. 

"She is fine," he replied casually. "Why do you ask?" 

"She simply seems tired—especially of a morning," I answered. "Has she any particular complaint that would cause her to be?" 

The good King began to blush! I was getting somewhere! And this was starting to excite me. 

"Come to think on it," I added, "her appetite has been down. And she has been a little more pale than is usual. Aragorn, I am a healer, remember. Perhaps I could help if something is ailing Arwen." 

"Nothing is ailing her that will not be put to rights—given time," he told me. Then he looked me directly in the eyes, and a smile began to bloom over his face. 

"No!" I said. "She is with child, isn't she?" I laughed and leaned forward, hugging the King in my excitement, knowing how much a child meant to them both—especially to Arwen. I suddenly remembered myself, and what I was doing, and dropped away from him suddenly. 

"I am sorry, Aragorn," I said quickly. "Please forgive me." 

"There is naught to forgive," he said benignly. "We have told no one, so please keep our secret. Arwen was waiting to make completely sure, and since she has now visited with her father and Haldan, and they have laid their hands on her, she is satisfied. We will be making an announcement to all our friends and family very soon." 

"I know you are thrilled," I said with genuine warmth. "And Arwen must be ecstatic." 

"She is very happy about it," Aragorn admitted. "And I— I am speechless most of the time." 

I laughed. "Well this time you can literally shout the announcement from the rooftops for all to hear." 

"And I plan to," he said with a huge smile on his face. 

We fell into an easy silence for a few moments. The garden was still that peaceful place that I remembered. It may be full of sad memories, but it still had the air about it that calmed and healed my tortured mind. 

"Aragorn," I said, breaking the quiet at last, "after all that has happened this past year or so, I wonder; would you still have stayed that night, had you to do it over again? I know not why I ask, but for some reason your answer is important to me." 

The King began playing with the grass once again, and after a few moments he began to speak. 

"The first answer that comes to mind is 'yes, of course I would', because had I not, then Leofa would not be here," he answered right away. "But there are many things to contemplate when answering that question. When the sun rose that next morning, I had renewed purpose. The night before, I knew not how or why I would accomplish that which I needed to do. But the following morning, after our night together, I suddenly had found my faith—blind faith, that what would be, would be—and good would prevail. I knew it, as surely as I stand before you now. Had we not been together that night, I can say with certainty, that I would have gone from the White City with a heavy heart, ready to accept my doom, and the doom of all. And that perhaps would have sealed the fate of Middle Earth. Sealed it to the torture of Sauron's rule. 

"I owe you my life. Had you not shared yourself, body and soul, with me that night, I know not how I would have been able to go on. Even though I still have doubt that I was the catalyst that brought all the fates together, it is believed by most that it is so. And if it is so, then you are owed by all. The question you ask is a hard one to answer. But to answer you truthfully, I would have stayed that night. I needed—you. I felt myself dying by degrees, and your spirit brought mine back to me. So, yes, I would do it again, had I to do it over." 

"Ask for a simple answer, and you give me an declamation. A simple 'yes' or 'no' would have done," I said with one eyebrow raised. I gave a small chuckle. "I never knew you felt this way. I am stunned that you have even pondered all these thoughts." 

"In light of what I just said, I suppose I could take offense at that," he replied. "Think you that I was simply having a toss in the hay? I suppose I should not be surprised, if you did. We certainly did not know each other—we still do not." He stood and took a few steps toward the tree and placed one hand on the bole of it. He ran his hand over the trunk, feeling the smoothness of the wood. "It is a birch, did you know that?" 

"No," I said, smiling. "I never knew it was a birch. I only knew its leaves were ears, and it listened to me when I needed to rail against the unfairness of my life." 

After a few more moments of silence, Aragorn turned the question back on me. 

"What about you, Maeren?" Aragorn asked, facing me once again. "Would you have stayed that night had you known what would have been the result?" 

I should have expected this, but I was still unprepared. I knew not what to answer. I just started speaking, saying what came to mind. I hoped it would not be too abrasive or sappy. It could go either way, for I felt both emotions when I examined my mind. 

"I would have stayed, also, Aragorn," I finally replied. "I was lost and alone—so very alone—and I, too, felt as if I was sinking into oblivion. The youngest soldiers, who were just children in disguise, were dying in my arms. My soul was ripping asunder. I felt as if I had lost everything a person could lose and still live. My mind was screaming in agony, and it was as if you heard me, and appeared in the garden by design—not by chance at all. 

"I could have turned you away, and I did not. I am fully adult, and should have thought of the consequences, but I did not. And as Elrond said to me so graciously once, 'things always happen for a reason. We may not be apprised of the reason, but the reason exists nonetheless.' You were reborn, as was I that night, and together, we bore fruit—Leofa. Being a mother again, has been a wondrous thing for me. In some ways, it is exactly what I needed in my life. Of course according to social norms, I did things a bit backwards, so the situation is not ideal to say the least, but I love our son fiercely, and I would not give him up for anything! Yes, and a thousand times yes! Had I to do it again—even with all the complications and heartaches—I would." My voice had taken on the tone of one making a declaration, and in a way, I suppose that I was. I was declaring my complete love and adoration for my son. I was also weeping again. _Would the tears never cease?_

Aragorn came back to me, reseated himself on the grass in front of me, and despite my trying to fight him off, he insisted on putting his arms around me and giving me comfort_. Men. But then, how was he to know I needed no comfort? _

I may have been weeping, but they were tears of joy. I was praising the Valar for knowing what I needed those long months ago and giving it to me anyway, despite all my protestations. 

I did not weep for long, and I finally managed to extricate myself from the King's embrace. He handed me a hanky he took from his pocket, which I gratefully accepted. 

"I am sorry for becoming so emotional, Aragorn," I insisted. "I love Leofa so much it brings me to tears sometimes, that is all." 

"I understand that completely," he said. His smile was beautiful, and I knew he was thinking of our child and how much he, too, loved him. 

"You know Aragorn," I pondered, "it occurs to me that I have come full circle in my life. Somewhat over a year ago, here I sat, feeling lost and alone and wanting to go home. And here I am somewhat a year later, sitting here again. I was feeling lost and alone, but I do no longer. You have helped me realize that I am not alone. I have wonderful friends, all I need do is reach out for them. They are here to help me, if I but tell them I am in need of them. But the best part of it all is everything that I have learned; about myself and about other people. No one is perfect, and I cannot expect myself nor anyone else to be so. And I need not hold every man in contempt for fear he may get too close, and I may fall in love with him and betray my Dustin. I have also learned that I may fall in love again someday, and I will not be failing in my vows to my husband. He would not have me be alone and bereft of love or passion, as I would not expect it of him had the situation been reversed and tragedy had befallen me and not him. I have traversed this circle of my life, and I have finally broken free from its never-ending ring. I think I have pulled away from it stronger and wiser—at least I hope I have. And now I can finally get on with my life, and that is just what I plan to do. 

"I am going home very soon. I do so miss my brothers, Aragorn, and my home in Rohan. I hope you understand that I cannot stay here. I do it not to spite you or for any unkindness in my heart—I hope you believe that." I chuckled. "I meant not to go on and on, but then we all know my penchant for talking, do we not?" 

Aragorn smiled. "Yes, we certainly know that about you." We both laughed, for I could tell he was teasing me most kindly. "So you have decided against the Directorship?" 

"Yes I have," I replied. "I always thought it would be something I would want, but when I really thought about what the position would entail, I realized it would take me away from what I loved most about the healing profession: the patients. I want to be among the people, Aragorn, not the papers. Let someone who is good with paperwork be with the papers; I want to be with the people who are sick and injured. It is what I do best, and what I enjoy most. I would be fired from the position of Director so fast both of our heads would spin, were I to take it. I would be found down in the Houses of Healing constantly, instead of in my office and behind my desk where I belonged. No; I could never be the Director. I am simply glad I thought it completely through before I made a big mistake." 

"It is the city's loss, I assure you," he said in his most regal tone. "When do you think to leave?" 

"I know you want time with Leofa," I said sadly, "but I have been away from home for over four years now. I haven't seen my brothers in all that time. I want to go as soon as it can be arranged. I am truly sorry, Aragorn. I hope you understand." 

"I do understand, Maeren," he said, smiling. "I have family, foster though most of it is. Your travel plans will be arranged as soon as possible." 

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "I know how hard it is for you to let our son go like this. I know how I love him and how hard it would be for me—how hard it _will be for me when it comes to be my turn for him to visit you for an extended time." Aragorn started to protest, but I would have none of it. "No. I insist that once Leofa is older—say six or seven—and well old enough to be away from behind his mother's skirts, he will be coming to Gondor for extended stays. He needs the influence of his father. I have always felt strongly about that, when it came to raising my children, and I have not changed my mind on that matter." I felt a fleeting stab of coldness in my heart, along with a thought that had Tristin not been raised that way, perhaps he may not have followed his father into a burning stable. I quickly banished the traitorous thought from my mind. _

"There is still plenty of time to debate that point," Aragorn mused. "Now," he said as he rose, "I must be about my business." He stood and looked down upon me for a moment, and then he added, "I am glad you feel better about your life, Maeren. Many were the times, over the past months that I sorrowed over my part in altering your life so severely. You were forced to leave your work, go to a strange place and live with a strange people you knew nothing about, and bear a child alone. My only comfort was knowing what good hands you were in, and in what a beautiful place you were residing. It is with great relief that I hear you say that your life has come full circle, and you are getting off the wheel and going your own way. I am glad you have our son as comfort to you now—someone to love and someone to love you in return. I know exactly how it feels to be alone." 

I rose then, and embraced the King one last time; truly embraced him. I no longer feared being near him. He was my friend who just happened to be the father of my child. 

"Thank you for everything, Aragorn," I told him sincerely. "You know not how much your friendship means to me." I released him, and gave him a little nudge. "Now, get you to work before the advisors come looking for you. Eru knows, I would not relish speaking with that reptilian Glosten again!" 

Aragorn laughed, kissed my cheek, and turned and left the little garden. It felt very good to have finally made peace with Aragorn, after all the bitterness and fear I had felt towards him before. It may not always be easy, but we would work out between us the rearing of our child, and Leofa would be a fine man for our efforts. I had no doubt of that. 

I sat back down by the tree, and after several minutes had passed, I heard a great commotion going on outside the wall of the garden, out in the street. I strained my ears to catch what was occurring, but with the horses' hooves against the stones of the street, it was hard to discern much of any of the men's voices speaking. Through it all, I could tell it was Rhorric in which they were conversing. These were men were from Rohan riding into the city! I exited the garden to see if perhaps I knew these men, and if so, to hear if they had any news I may find of interest. 

I approached the group of about twenty riders, which made me think that perhaps the King was among them, making an escort necessary for there to be so many in the company. They had all dismounted by the time I got near enough to hail them, and by then, I could see their faces. I recognized some of the men, for some I had known all my life—friends I had grown up with. And then I saw him—Haedren—my oldest brother! And beside him was Haeleth and Dirhael—two of my other brothers! And in their midst was Eomer! I ran the rest of the way and flung myself at the heart of the crowd that was my brothers, already weeping with the joy of seeing them. 

We stood there together, all of us embracing each other, for quite a long while. The other riders encircled us, facing outwards, hiding us from prying eyes, but giving us space for a somewhat private reunion. I could not believe I had ever felt alone. Not only did I have four brothers, but look at the friends I had, and just see what they would do for me and my family. They were standing guard around us while we wept and rejoiced at seeing each other again after more than four years. Aragorn was right. I had friends all around me. And I had learned on my own that all I had to do was call to them, and let them know I had need of them, and they would be there for me. 

At last I found my voice, and drew back from my brothers, looking at each one in turn, making sure they were truly real. It then dawned on me that one of them was missing. 

"And what has become of Small Saelden?" I asked with worry. 

Haedren's face took on a look of disgust. "Ever since the King saw fit to decorate the rat for bravery, there's been no living with him. Since he fancies himself the rooster, we left him to guard the henhouse, so to speak." We all laughed at Haedren's silliness. 

Eomer broke from the outside circle and the remaining riders began dispersing.

"Come now," he boomed as he grabbed me for a hug, "the king demands an embrace from this feminine subject!" We all laughed once again, and I hugged the King of Rohan for all I was worth. "I have need to see this new addition to your family, my dear Maeren, and I am sure his uncles feel the need as well." 

"Well, get you walking up these circles then, my liege, and you will be seeing him as soon as may be," I retorted saucily. We began walking up through the circles of the city, arms around waists. I could not believe my family was here. It was as if I was dreaming. 

"How did you know I was here?" I finally had the presence of mind to ask. 

"Elessar sent word the day you arrived," Eomer replied. "I informed your brothers, we all tied up our loose ends and here we are. What seems to be the problem?" 

I laughed. "There's no problem at all," I said. "None at all." 

So what if Aragorn had gone behind my back to arrange my life again? Last year that would have made me exceedingly angry. This year, I didn't give a mouse's behind! I had my brothers here with me, good friends all around me, my new son to love—what was to be angry about? 

And besides—perhaps there could be a tumble arranged with a certain Elf sometime. Perhaps sometime soon. Maybe very soon—who knows?

~The End~

A/N:   I want to thank all of you who have stuck with me through the thick and thin of this story.  It hasn't been easy for you, I know; what with all my rambling and reiterating and repeating myself, making the story much longer than it needed to be.  To all of you who wished to see a romance between the Elf and Maeren I apologize, but to be truthful, she wasn't supposed to have a love interest at all in this story!  She and Elladan pretty much took matters into their own hands, and got away from me about half way through this silly thing!  So, I had to reign them in so this would end the way I had meant for it to end.  Didn't I?  And anyway, as Maeren said at the end, who knows?  I just may have to write a little shorty sometime about a tumble between a Rhorric Healer and an Elf from Imladris....

Who knows?

Puxinette


End file.
